


Dean Winchester is Not Afraid of Ghosts

by Desirae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Boys In Love, Camera Operator Dean Winchester, Cas and Lily are best friends, Castiel Whump, Castiel deserves nice things, Comforting Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Deserves Nice Things, Demisexual Castiel, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Humor, Haunted Houses, Light Angst, M/M, Medium Castiel, Not Ghost facers, Paranormal Romance, Photographer Dean, Possessed Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Soulmates, Switching, Think Ghost Hunters, Top Castiel, Top Dean, bed sharing, past tragedies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-03-21 10:05:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 48,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13738557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desirae/pseuds/Desirae
Summary: When photographer Dean Winchester is not capturing momentous occasions like weddings and graduations with his Nikon, he is moonlighting as the cameraman for the South Shore Paranormal; a ghost hunting series on YouTube, headed by his brother Sam, and Sam's best friend Gabriel.Despite his brother's adamance, Dean Winchester does not believe in ghosts.  And no one is going to change his mind. Certainly not a scam artist like Castiel Novak. Castiel is a self-proclaimed medium... and Gabriel's brother. When a member of the SSP team has to leave the crew, Castiel is the replacement, much to Dean's dismay. But the more they work together, the more Dean is drawn to Castiel, the man stirring up protective instincts usually only reserved for family.What happens when Dean realizes that Castiel is not the fake he always thought he was, but instead, a generous soul that Dean is rapidly falling in love with?





	1. Glossary

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is a fic I have been working on for a long time and it will be updated weekly. I am very much into the paranormal and have been on a fair amount of investigations, so it was fun to share those experiences through this story. I do hope you enjoy it. The first chapter is a glossary of terms because I forget that not everyone is a nerd like me when it comes to this stuff;)
> 
> Lots of love&thanks to my Parabatai; my teapot Bekki, for test driving this fic for me chapter by chapter, and helping it makes sense outside of my head<3
> 
> xoxo & thanks for reading.

**Glossary of terms**

 

 **Intelligent Haunting** :  This kind of haunting indicates that the ghost is aware of you and will try to interact with you, be it through manifestation, knocks, sounds, messing with electronics, slamming doors, creating cold spots, appearing as shadows or a black mass, etc.

 

 **Residual Hauntings:**  In residual hauntings, the apparition(s) have no idea that you are there, and the activity will continue to happen whether someone is present or not. These hauntings are really just an imprint of energy, a snapshot of a once-living person. In residual hauntings the manifestations, whether sightings, sounds, or smells, are repeated over and over like a tape looping.  Usually, actions that may have been habitual of the deceased before they died, such as a woman in period clothing leaning over a landing, or snuffing a candle, or a child who always bounced a ball in the same area. Some residual apparitions are associated with a single intense experience like the thud of someone’s tragic fall down the stairs or something joyous like the birth of a child or a wedding.

 

 **Poltergeist** : Despite popular belief, a poltergeist is not a malevolent or mischievous spirit. A poltergeist is actually psychokinetic activity caused by someone else, a living person, usually without them even knowing it. It’s burst of energy caused by stress, either emotional or physical, and often seen in homes with pubescent individuals.

 

 **Sleep** **Paralysis:** Often mistaken for paranormal, a feeling of being conscious but unable to move. It occurs when a person passes between stages of wakefulness and sleep. During these transitions, you may be unable to move or speak for a few seconds up to a few minutes. Some people may also feel pressure or a sense of choking.

 

 **EVP:** **electronic voice phenomena(EVP)** are sounds found on electronic recordings that are interpreted as spirit voices that have been either unintentionally recorded or intentionally requested by investigators and recorded. Usually a quick word or phrase.

 

 **EMF: (Electro Magnetic field)**  EMF meters measure fluctuations in electromagnetic fields (or EM fields). These fields are a direct result of electrical appliances in the home, cell phones, power lines outside and even fluctuations in solar activity and weather. Beyond that, a primary theory in the paranormal world is that entities can manipulate these fields in their attempt to manifest themselves or interact with our world. The units of measurement registered on an EMF meter is called milligauss.

**Full Spectrum camera with attached infrared light:** This camcorder has been professionally developed with UV and IR sensitivity to view the full spectrum of light including light not seen with the human eye.

**Thermal imaging camera:** a type of thermographic camera originally used in firefighting. By rendering infrared radiation as visible light, such cameras allow us to see areas of heat through smoke, darkness, or heat-permeable barriers.  Here is a video example of live evidence from Ghost Hunters. Only 2min, I suggest checking it out. It's hella cool.

[ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_FAmQYbyT7w ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_FAmQYbyT7w)

 

 **Geophone motion sensor** :  Listens to vibrations in the ground and will light up the moment any vibration or movement is detected.  Used to correlate with evidence of the sound of footsteps, most commonly.

 

 **Laser Grid:** A high powered laser that emits a grid of green dots useful for detecting shadows or general visual disturbances during an investigation. Set it in front of a running camera to catch potential evidence.

  



	2. South Shore Paranormal

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The rain fell in sheets, hammering at the side of the house like nails. The chill in the air seeped right into the bones. It was drafty in the old colonial, either due to the loose boards or inadequate insulation, Dean couldn’t be sure.

He hated investigating on nights like this. It made set up a bitch for him and the other techs on the team. Of course, Sam and Gabriel thought it was perfect. Something about how storms always amped up the paranormal activity. Dean snorted to himself as he taped down an extension cord to the floor of the basement.

Dean Winchester is not afraid of Ghosts; most likely because he doesn’t believe in them. It was a mindset that frustrated the hell out of Dean’s brother Sam and his co-lead investigator, Gabriel Novak. Sam and Gabriel hosted their own Ghost Hunting show called _South_ _Shore_ _Paranormal_ , also known as _SSP_ , that they featured on YouTube. Dean was the lead tech manager in charge of equipment.

After tagging along with Sam and Gabriel for the client walk through, Dean would plot out camera placement.

“Charlie, did you get the full spectrum mounted?” Dean called out to his assistant, Charlie Bradbury.

“You bet, boss,” she called back. “Got it positioned at the base of the back stairs like you wanted, facing the landing. Kev is running extension cords out to the van to get the monitors set up.” Kevin Tran was another tech assistant. After set up, Kevin and Charlie would monitor the cameras at mobile command during the course of the investigation. The van was Gabriel’s pride and joy. It was tall enough to stand upright in, with multiple outlets in the back that would run power to the monitors inside the vehicle and to the cameras set up on location.

Dean finished taping down the extension cords. Nothing worse than walking in the dark and tripping over a loose wire. A thermal camera that he had mounted was kitty-cornered to catch the section of the room where an apparent black mass had been known to appear. They had already set up five cameras in the main parts of the house; living room, kitchen, master bedroom, and two more bedrooms on the main floor. Now they needed to set up the full spectrum and a laser grid down the main hallway where a small figure was known to appear, which Charlie was handling. Dean went room to room checking the setup, making sure everything was taped down and not a safety hazard.

During the investigation, Dean would follow Sam and Gabriel around with a handheld camera with infrared and full spectrum capabilities. Sam and Dean would conduct EVP sessions with digital recorders.  Benny Lafitte, another investigator, and one of Dean’s best friends evened out the team, though not for long. Benny was moving back home to Louisiana. His wife Andrea, was pregnant with their first child and wanted to move back home to be close to her mother. Benny and Andrea were childhood sweethearts and Benny felt that since Andrea had taken a chance on Benny and followed him up north when he decided to go to _Johnson_ _and_ _Wales_ for Culinary, then stuck by him when he moved  to Cape Cod when he got the head chef position at _The_ _Lobster_ _Trap_ , that it was time to do something for her. Benny had hopes of opening a food truck, menu focusing on creole flavors with a New England seafood twist, and had saved each and every paycheck he received from _SSP_ towards that goal. After this weekend, Benny would be New Orleans bound. Dean was trying not to think of how much he’d miss his friend, and instead be happy for doing what was best for his small family. It was Dean that had gotten Benny the side job investigating with _SSP_ when Sam and Gabriel realized they needed another person if they wanted to make sure each area in the locations were able to be thoroughly investigated. Someone who wasn’t afraid to sit by themselves in a dark room and attempt to converse with the dead.  Benny, who was a very spiritual person, fit the bill. Dean had met Benny seven years ago when he was bartending at _The_ _Lobster_ _Trap_ to help pay his tuition to the _Cape_ _Cod_ _Art_ _Center_ , where Dean had been studying photography.  

“Camera’s all up and running,” came Kevin’s voice from the walky-talky hooked into his belt.

“Alright,” Dean answered back, “let’s all meet at mobile command.”

 

*****

Dean met the team outside of the  _ SSP _ van. He stood next to Kevin and Charlie, pointing out the camera angles to Sam, Gabriel, and Benny.

“Okay, so you can see we have full spectrum cameras set up in the master bedroom, kitchen and living room.  We have another panned up at the base of the stairs, catching the landing where the client says a figure often appears leaning over.”

“Great angle, you managed to get that whole area, plus the stairs in the shot,” Sam said approvingly and Dean accepted the high-five from Charlie.

“We have the thermal set up in the basement where the black mass is known to frequent, and another full spectrum facing down the main hall with laser grid. If anything shows up there, it will block out the lights,” Dean said, gesturing at the grid green dots creating a faux wall in the middle of the hallway.

“Alright guys, good job. Everyone make sure to carry extra batteries. Sam and I did an EMF sweep and found high levels off in the basement area. Plus, the house is right underneath power lines, so this will either help or hinder us.” Gabriel said. The problem with high electromagnetic fields is that they can give off false readings. People sensitive to high EMF could actually feel paranoid, or sick. Or on the other side of the coin, high EMF could also aid paranormal activity, as some theorize that the added energy gives the spirits something to draw from to manifest. Same with areas heavy in quartz deposits, or near large bodies of water. _Or_ _storms_ , Dean thought with a sigh, as the steady rain sluiced down the back of his neck and soaked his heavy grey sweatshirt.

“Okay, kiddos, “ Gabriel said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get inside before we get electrocuted. Kevin, Charlie, radio if you see anything on the monitors.”

“Here’s to hoping that your last investigation with us is an epic one,” Sam said, with a salute of his digital recorder.

“God willing, brother,” Benny drawled as they headed inside.

  
  



	3. Half-priced Tuesdays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got beta'd early! See you next week:)

Apparently, God wasn’t willing because after hours of review, no audio or visual evidence could be found in the Harris’ early 1900’s Colonial. They were, however, able to debunk a few things. The figure on the landing. Due to the location of the house, being at the bottom of a high hill, through reenactment, they discovered that when Gabriel drove the _SSP_ van and crested the top of the hill, that the headlights caught the upstairs window just right enough to create the illusion of movement. Since the light came before the sound of the vehicle, the team suspected that the clients were seeing the anomaly first, only hearing the passing cars after they had come down the incline to the valley below, and not making the connection.

Another claim they were able to find an explanation for was the smell of cigarette smoke that would appear out of nowhere in the kitchen. What a lot of people didn’t realize was that wood could retain smell. The Harris’ kitchen table was an antique that had been in the family for over one hundred years, and at least a few of the deceased family members had been heavy pipe and tobacco smokers. During the investigation, Gabriel broke out the hair dryer. He and Sam could tell by the location of the kitchen window that for a good portion of the day, the table would be under the baking heat of the sunlight. Sure enough, after a few minutes of hot air blasting on the surface, the aroma of stale tobacco began to permeate the air.

The truth was, the majority of the time, this was how it was. Despite what television would lead one to believe, most claims could be debunked very easily, and true evidence was a very rare find.

Dean walked up to the bar and ordered two shots of whiskey and two bottles of _Bud_. Tuesday was half-priced app night at _The_ _Roadhouse_ , which was good because the amount of bourbon-glazed wings Dean could put away in one sitting was a little obscene. Dean carried the drinks carefully over to the table where Sam sat, waiting. Half-priced Tuesdays were their thing. Sam called it brotherly bonding time. Dean just called it dinner.

Dean slid into the booth and pushed Sam’s drinks towards him across the table. They clicked glasses before downing the three fingers of _Jim_ _Beam._

 _“_ I still can’t believe nothing showed up on video,” Sam said.

“They can’t all be haunted, Sammy, “ Dean said.

“Like it matters to you, you think we’re crazy," Sam said with an amused huff.

Dean shook his head. “Now, I never said that. I respect your beliefs.”

“Plus, it helps that Gabriel pays so well,” Sam smirked, and Dean laughed as he nodded in agreement.

Gabriel Novak was Sam’s best friend. They had met six years prior, in a cooking class, of all places. Sam had decided to take the class to surprise Dean. Dean, who had spent most of his life taking care of Sam, would deny it with his very last breath that he’d teared up when his brother had surprised him on his thirtieth birthday by hosting a family dinner with their Uncle Bobby, Aunt Ellie and Sam’s then-girlfriend, Jess. Sam, who on a good day couldn’t boil water, had taken classes and prepared a feast of roasted chicken, carrots and potatoes, and finished it off with homemade cherry pie, Dean’s favorite. Dean would take birthday pie over a birthday cake any day.

Dean wasn’t sure why Gabriel had been in the class. Gabriel did pretty much whatever he wanted. Being rich had its perks. Dean knew that Gabriel and his younger brother Castiel, had been the beneficiaries of their Aunt Amara’s estate and that Gabriel had taken his half of the inheritance and invested wisely. Dean knew there was more to the story of the forty-one-year-old billionaire, but he never pried and Sam never said, though Dean was sure that his brother knew a lot more about Gabe's past then he let on. Gabriel footed the entire bill for the show himself. He paid for the state of the art equipment and compensated his team generously each investigation. Gabe had been approached about having _SSP_ on a regular network, but he’d declined. It was his show and he wanted to do it his way, and have the freedom to pick and choose his team, and his cases. Dean respected the hell out of him; even though Gabriel drove him bat-shit crazy sometimes.

“See, Sam, it’s like this. I’m not saying that the shit we catch isn’t real. I’m just saying it ain’t ghosts.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “What about that EVP we caught at the Cliffside Inn? You can’t tell me you didn’t hear it.”

“I heard something, Sam, yeah. I heard interference from a nearby CB operator, maybe some cross modulation, or ionospheric ducting...”

“When we asked for a name, it said Sarah, clear as day.”

Dean shrugged. “Lotsa people named Sarah, Sammy,” Dean choked back a laugh at Sam’s expression. Clearly, the frustration was real.

“The client’s dead grandmother was named Sarah, Dean,” Sam said pointedly and Dean chuckled, not unkindly as he flipped through thumbnails on his phone from the engagement photo shoot he’d done earlier that day. Gabriel paid well, but not _that_ well. Dean still needed to supplement his income with a day job, and weddings, engagements, and graduations helped with that. Sam, on the other hand, worked solely for Gabriel, not only as a co-investigator but as his finance lawyer as well.

“Sam, there are reasonable explanations for almost all of the things that we come across,” Dean said, taking a pull on his beer.

“ _Almost_. You said _almost_ all of the things,” Sam said with a smirk and Dean inclined his head.

“Yes, I did. Because the ones we can’t explain, are just things that science hasn’t caught up to yet,” Dean winked at his brother and Sam groaned.

“I’m not gonna win on this, am I?”

“Nope,” Dean said, a wide smile on his face as their waitress, his cousin Joanna Beth, headed over with their wings.

"Here you go, boys. Dean, make sure you let Sam have some this time," Jo teased.

"Yeah, yeah, if he asks nicely," Dean said, mouth already full, fingers glistening.

Sam tossed one of the pre-moistened towelettes his way. "You're disgusting."

Dean just smiled and licked his fingers obnoxiously, and Sam sighed, rolling his eyes as he reached into the basket for a few to put on his own plate.

“You know,” Sam started, in a pleading tone that Dean knew meant no good, “if you would just let Castiel read you-”

“Not happening," Dean immediately interrupted as he wiped his fingers clear of the sticky glaze.

“But Dean, the things he was able to tell me-” Sam stopped when Dean snorted.

“Anything he told you, he could have found out on his own or from your bestie, Gabe.”

Sam’s puppy dog eyes looked at him, wounded. “That’s not true, Gabe wouldn’t do that. You’re lucky I don’t tell him you said that, either. He’s been good to us,” Sam’s voice was full of censure and Dean nodded.

“Alright, alright, that was unfair. You know I like Gabriel. But his brother is an asshole,” Dean fired back firmly, raising his hand to signal Jo for another round, and giving a wave to her mother at the other end of the bar. Ellen Harvelle was his late mother's cousin and the owner of _The_ _Roadhouse_.

“Dean, you barely know the guy, how can you conclude that he’s an asshole? Castiel is really nice. I mean, yeah, he has some social issues and he’s quiet, but-”

“Sam, he’s a billionaire who bilks money he doesn’t need out of hard-working people too gullible to know any better. Acting like he’s the fucking _Long_ _Island_ _Medium_ or something.”

“How do you know he charges them? And so what if he does? Just because he has money, doesn’t mean he shouldn’t charge for his services.”

Dean made a face at that, deeming not to answer.

“Well, whatever issues you have with Castiel, you better get over them.”

“What? Why?” Dean asked, though a sinking feeling in his gut already told him the answer.

“Because he’s Benny’s new replacement,” Sam said with a wide smile and finished off the rest of his beer.

Dean slumped back into the booth, defeated. “Well, fuck.”

  
  
  



	4. No Spoilers

The sun filtering through the blinds began to break through Castiel’s restless sleep. He groaned into his pillow, snuggling further under his thick navy comforter. He’d finally dropped off to sleep sometime around 3 am. Since his alarm hadn’t gone off yet, Castiel knew it was before 8 am and it was going to be a sluggish day.

The tail end of last night’s headache was knocking quietly at his temple and he willed it to fade away. Recovering from migraines was hell.

Castiel forced himself out of bed and stretched, fingers interlocking and pressed toward the ceiling.  He had an internal debate with himself on whether or not to forget his morning jog down the beach or to make it a sweatpants in front of the tv kind of day. In the end, he bargained with himself that if he did his morning jog, he could laze about to his heart’s content when he got back. Castiel pulled a fresh pair of bumblebee boxer briefs out of his drawer and dragged them on, along with a pair of black yoga pants, and a red  _ Louden Swain _ tee-shirt.

Castiel dug his bare feet into the plush rose carpet of his bedroom as moved his body into a standing forward bend, and stretched his arms out to the sides, before dropping his hands forward to his toes. He stayed like that for a few beats, letting his breath even out and his muscles relax. He rolled back up to standing and proceeded to angle first his right leg then his left into lunge positions. The warm-ups would loosen his muscles so that he wouldn’t have to deal with cramps and spasms after his beach run.

Castiel decided he would reward himself with an obscenely large cup of coffee when he got back. He made his way downstairs in sock-clad feet and padded into the kitchen. A loud meow sounded from between his legs, as his smokey colored cat, Aslan, nudged his fluffy head against Castiel’s ankle.

“I know, boy, I’m getting it.”

Castiel opened the pantry and grabbed the bag of  _ BLUE salmon&brown _ rice, before opening the laundry room door off the back of the kitchen where the cat dishes were. Castiel refilled the water dish as well, as Aslan got down to the serious business of eating his seafood flavored breakfast. Castiel grabbed his running shoes off of the floor mat and headed back into the kitchen, where he plopped onto a stool in front of the island to tug them onto his feet.  

The door off the left side of the kitchen opened up to a deck that stretched the length of the house. The downstairs steps were long and steep, due to the two-story home being on pilings. Castiel lived a stone’s throw away from a private beach. He stepped out on to the porch and shivered a bit in the cold, but as usual, the view was spectacular. White-capped waves crashed upon the shore, as a few lone gulls circled the shallows. He took a deep breath, enjoying the whip of salty air against his skin.

Castiel loved his little sanctuary. Sand Dollar Cove, a five-mile stretch of beach where his nearest neighbors on either side were a quarter of a mile away. He mostly only saw the few other inhabitants of the beach during hurricane clean-up, or when he jogged. On the left side of the beach, there was Commissioner Fergus “Crowley” MacLeod and his wife, Hannah, who was a maternity nurse at South Shore Hospital. Further up from them was Lighthouse Point’s resident _Doogie_ _Howser_ , pediatrician Alfie Tyler and his fiance, High School Art teacher Krissy Chambers. To the right, there was only widower, Cain Mullen, who had run a Bee Apiary with his wife Colette, until her sudden passing from a heart attack. Their children, whom Castiel had yet to meet, had taken it over and Cain did well enough living off of the profits from Sweet Clover farms national bestselling honey, chapsticks, and candles.

Castiel jogged down the steps and peeked around the right side pilings where his white jeep was parked.  He went around to the back seat and pulled out his grey zip-up hoodie he wore while running. He then made his way around the other side that he kept clear for when Gabriel needed to park because he refused to use the guest parking in the lot out in front, that opened to the main drag.

_ “Do you really think I’m going to let my van get shit on by seagulls when you have a perfectly good parking spot right here? Don’t be a tool, Cassie.” _

He noticed the food bowls were empty and made a mental note to refill it when he got back. Castiel had taken to feeding a stray black cat that liked to camp out under his house. She was extremely skittish and hissed like a demon whenever Aslan came near, but so far had not attempted to scratch him. Castiel feared she was either abused or abandoned because when she appeared last summer, she was nothing but skin and bones. But now, her coat was shinier and she had a little meat on her.

Castiel started down the short boardwalk and hopped onto the soft sand.  He wasn’t really up for a long jaunt today, his head was still battling back a migraine that was on the cusp of flourishing anew. That reading he had done yesterday had really taken it out of him. But it was worth it to see Mr. Penikett find closure. Castiel turned to the right, beginning slowly. It was only a mile to the inlet, two miles round trip and that was all he could handle today.

Castiel cleared his mind of everything except the sound of the waves, deftly maneuvering around pieces of driftwood and seaweed piles. Half a mile in, he passed Cain’s home, but the man himself was absent, his blue Chevy pickup not in sight. By the time Castiel made it to the inlet, his head felt clearer and his muscles nice and loose. He took a moment to admire the view, the black and white Lighthouse sitting proudly on the bluff, before he looped back around, visions of coffee, weed, and a Top Chef marathon playing in his head.

He was about a quarter of a mile away from his house when he felt a presence beside him. Castiel smiled.

“You look better than you did last night.”

Castiel huffed out a laugh, “I should hope so, I’m no longer vomiting.”

“You are far more giving than I ever was, Castiel.”

Castiel smirked. “True. I am pretty amazing.”

“Modest, too,” his companion teased. “But seriously, you push yourself too hard. It’s not your job to heal every widow, widower or childless parent in town.”

Castiel clucked his tongue, “ Well, technically…”

“Oh, shut it. This thing you’re doing, joining Gabe’s team. It’s going to be a good thing.”

Castiel wiped his brow with his forearm. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

Castiel jogged to a stop when he got to the bottom of his steps and began to do his stretches. “Why, do you have some secret intel?”

“No spoilers, darling,” came the reply, sounding further away now.

Castiel sighed. “Tease,” he murmured under his breath, before climbing up the stairs, leaving the empty beach behind him.


	5. Stare

“What the hell do you mean, I have to drive him?”

“There isn’t room in the van, and he’s too tall to fit comfortably in Charlie’s car. Plus she already carpools with Kevin,” Sam’s voice coming through the speaker of Dean’s smartphone left him with no doubt that he was sporting his classic bitchface.

Dean smoothly moved into the fast lane to bypass a woman too busy applying her mascara to actually watch the road.

“Moron,” he muttered to himself.

“Excuse me?”

“Not you, princess. Just idiots on the road this morning,” Dean had a photo shoot at 10 am. Graduation season was upon him and senior pictures were his main booking right now. After that, he would be off to Singer Salvage and Auto Repair. He had told his Uncle Bobby that he would man the shop for a little while since his wife Ellie was making him keep his doctor’s appointment.  Facing the wrath of Eleanor Visyak-Singer was like facing a riled up dragon, and Dean was glad that Bobby had learned to pick his battles.

“Dean, I know you have mixed feelings about Castiel-”

Dean snorted, “That’s one way to put it,” he said, as he pulled into the parking lot of Lighthouse Point State Park. Dean could see Lisa Braeden, waving at him from his jeep. Her son, Ben, was graduating from High School, and like most seniors, they had chosen the picturesque view from their town’s namesake.

“I wish you would give the guy a chance. Castiel’s been through a lot, you should get to know him before you decide you hate him.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Sam, I’m not gonna start a fight with the guy. I know how to be polite when I need to be. You think I’d be unprofessional like that on the job?”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Sam said contritely, and Dean grinned.

“Relax, Sammy. I won’t start anything. I have a shoot, so text me his address and tell him I will be there by 3 pm to pick him up.”

Dean shoved his phone into his pocket and got out of his car. He waved Lisa and Ben over, then opened his trunk. He debated for a minute between the _Nikon_ and the _Tamron_ , choosing the latter because his outside shots always just seemed to come together so well with it, even though it was a far less expensive camera.

Dean greeted Lisa with a warm hug and clapped Ben on the back. “Ready for your close-up?” Dean asked the teen and Ben rolled his eyes towards his mom.

“Not really, but she’s all excited,” the boy grumbled, without any real malice.

“Come on, sweetie. It’s not every day that my baby boy graduates high school,” Lisa said, a little bit wistfully, as they left the lot for the short trail up to the bluff where the Lighthouse sat.  Lisa was an amazing mom. She and Dean had dated in high school, from their sophomore year up until the summer before senior year.  But between Dean taking care of Sam and working every spare minute, there just wasn’t enough time for romance, so they split up. Thankfully, they had remained friends, and when Lisa came back home to Lighthouse Point after college, pregnant by a loser who thought it was okay to hit a woman, he introduced her to his friend Victor Henriksen, a local cop. Vic helped advise Lisa on how to go about pressing charges and filing a restraining order. It was long after Ben was born that they had started dating.  Dean had been their wedding photographer when they were married.

Dean took a variety of shots of Ben when they got to the lighthouse, and on the white-fenced boardwalk leading up to it.

“Ben, turn your head just a lit-that’s it. Hold there,” Dean said and he took a few shots. “So what’s new with you and Vic? Ben’s outta school soon, got any vacation plans?” Dean asked Lisa, without taking his eyes off of his camera.

Lisa laughed. “Well, we were going to do this big adventure, white water rafting thing,” she said and Dean grinned widely, stopping to give Ben a chance to change positions.

“Hey, bud, run on up ahead. Put your back against the wall and your arms like this,” Dean folded his arms across his chest casually and nodded in approval as Ben mimicked the movement. “Oh yeah?” Dean started again, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder at Lisa, “that sounds fun. But you said were. Change your minds?"

Lisa gave a long-suffering sigh, but Dean could tell by the sparkle in her big brown eyes that she wasn’t really upset.

“Well, the doctor said it would be bad for the baby,” Lisa said sweetly.

“What? No way! Congratulations, Lis, that’s awesome!”

“This way she won’t miss me so much when I am away at college,” Ben teased.

“Haha,” Lisa said, rolling her eyes, “like I wouldn’t miss you no matter what.”

By the time they had finished up and were hugging goodbye, Dean had about one-hundred and fifty shots that he would cull down to thirty. Then, he’d have Lisa choose her ten favorites for a photo package with an option to buy the other twenty.  

A glance at his watch told him that he had time to swing through the _Dunkin Donuts_ drive-thru for a large black coffee if he was quick. While he waited in line he decided to grab a dozen donuts as well, knowing that the guys at the shop would appreciate it.

When Dean pulled into Singer Salvage he saw that Ellie was already there, waiting outside of her Subaru.  Her sunny blond hair was pulled back in a chignon and her pantsuit was hunter green with a flashy beaded belt and ivory kitten heels. Dean chuckled as he got out the Impala. It was always a kick to see someone so put together hanging at the shop with a bunch of grease monkeys. Especially when he’d seen her change a tire and change her own oil, in all her finery. Dean rested the box of donuts and the coffee on the roof as she came over to greet him with a hug.

“You don’t even trust him to drive there on his own, do you?” Dean teased, as he was enveloped in the scent of warm vanilla.

Ellie cocked a brow. “Would you?  I left the Gallery early just to make sure.“

“Well, maybe we can bribe him to go like a good little boy, if we promise to save him one of these if he gets a good report,” Dean joked, grabbing the donut box and giving it a little shake.

“Hey,” called a gruff voice from the entrance of the shop. “You two gonna shoot the breeze all day, or are we gonna go to this appointment?”

“Calm down, old man, we’re coming,” Dean replied, grabbing his coffee off of the hood of the car.

“Don’t you old man, me, “ Bobby said as they approached the door. “I can still kick your ass.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean muttered, shifting the donut box so he could pull him in for a one-armed hug. Bobby Singer wasn’t his uncle by blood, but he’d been Dean and Sam’s dad’s best friend growing up, and when John Winchester went off the rails, leaving Dean to take care of his kid brother, it was Bobby, and later after they married, Ellie, who essentially became like surrogate parents. “Go on and get your clean bill of health.”

Bobby scoffed, “It better be, after all the shit I had to cut out of my diet.”

After a suffering a heart attack last year, Bobby had been strictly advised to change his eating habits and as much as the man grumbled, he looked better than he had in years.

“Alright, get out of here, I’ll hold down the fort, “ Dean said, waving the couple out of the front door.

“Thanks, Dean, “ Ellie said. “We should be back in plenty of time for you to head out for your case.”

“That’s right, you’re investigating tonight,” Bobby said without a hint of sarcasm. To say that Dean had been surprised to discover the man leaned more towards Sam’s thinking of the paranormal, was an understatement. “Where are you going? Business or residence?”

“Residence in Mashpee. It’s Castiel’s first night, so Gabe and Sam didn’t want to overwhelm him with a huge location,” Dean said, with a slight eye-roll.

Ellie smiled. “He’s a sweet boy, Dean, you should give him a chance.”

“It’s not like I’m mean to the guy whenever we cross paths,” Dean said defensively.

“You ain’t exactly welcoming either, boy,” Bobby chided and Dean scowled.

“He stares at me. Like, really intently.”

“I’ve seen you stare at him plenty,” Ellie said with a laugh.

“No,” Dean said with a vigorous shake of his head. “No, I check him out, because the dude’s fucking hot. I don’t gaze at him like I’m reading his mind or claiming his soul. It’s different.”

“Whatever you say, kiddo,” Bobby said, patting Dean on the shoulder before following Ellie out to her car.

“It’s totally different,” he muttered to himself.

  
  
  



	6. Loud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brother is home visiting from Krakow this week, so posting this chapter a few days early because I will most likely be inebriated on Friday;) Enjoy!
> 
> Oh, and this fic is set in MA where marijuana is legal. Thank Chuck.

Castiel sat on the top step of his deck, once again grateful for the privacy afforded to him in where he lived. It was a warm day for early May, barely a breeze. The waves were calm and Aslan was laying out two steps down, purring louder than a motorboat. Cas was jealous of his feline companion’s relaxation. Castiel definitely wasn’t relaxed. Not yet anyway.

Cas reached into the front pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a small green and blue speckled pipe and a sandwich baggie of weed that his friend Lily had dropped off that morning. Lily Sunder ran The Spotted Toad, the local marijuana dispensary. Lily had been one of the first clients he had ever read when he moved to town. Helping Lily find closure in the passing of her young daughter had been such a momentous occasion in her life that she wound up visiting Castiel on the regular, and inviting him to lunch a few times a week. She had become a close friend. Well, as close as he was wont to let anyone be. It was Lily who had suggested that Cas try smoking a little weed to stave off the migraines he sometimes got after an intense reading.

Castiel was going on his first case with the _SSP_. It wouldn’t be what he normally did; no sitting down at a table with tea and a digital recorder while he tried to speak with whichever loved on was currently wanting to send a message. This would be different, but that wasn’t what was making him nervous enough to pack a bowl at two o'clock in the afternoon.  No, that distinct honor belonged to one Dean Winchester.

Dean made Castiel nervous, and not because talking to him was like talking to a real live Calvin Klein model. Being around Dean Winchester was … loud. Dean had an aura about him, bright in many places, dark in others. Castiel knew from Sam and Gabriel that the elder Winchester’s life hadn’t been ideal. In fact, it was quite sad. Not that it had been a picnic for Sam either, but for Dean, it was especially harsh. His mother Mary had passed away from an unexpected aneurysm when Dean was fourteen years old and Sam was ten. Sam hadn’t gone into too much detail, only to say that their father John had not handled his wife’s death well at all, and had gone from being their Uncle Bobby’s partner and full-time mechanic in his auto shop,  to a full time alcoholic. When Bobby couldn’t trust John enough to work anymore, he bought John out of his half of the company.

Sam said that Dean, eighteen by then, had managed to get John to pay off the house, making it clear to their broken father that he wouldn’t accept Sammy not having a stable place to live in the event that John either blew the money, or drank himself to death. Unfortunately, the latter happened three years later when John went on a bender on the anniversary of Mary’s death and  took a header into the canal and drowned. Thankfully, the mortgage free home was left to Dean, who on top of school, had been working full time at a twenty-four hour _IHOP_ outside of _Hyannis_. Sam claimed he had no idea when Dean had even had time to sleep.

Castiel remembered that Sam’d had tears in his eyes when he explained that Dean had decided long ago that his little brother was going to go to whatever college he wanted to, even if Dean had to work eighty hours a week to make it so. In the long run, though, Sam’s stellar grades had earned him a full ride to _Stanford_ and Dean had been able to use the money he had saved for his brother’s education over the years to fix up their little Cape-style house and put himself through photography school.

Sam’s aura was bright and sunny. He was peaceful as well, and Castiel enjoyed being around him. It was always calm. Dean was the opposite. Being around Dean was like being in the middle of a storm. Where the wind was loud and the rain would skate across the ground in waves. People didn’t see that when they looked at Dean; instead they saw a gorgeous man, with a devastating smile and freckles on his nose. They saw humor in moss green eyes flecked with gold and strength in the strong timber of his voice.

Castiel saw all of that too, but that was just the surface. Dean hid his emotions under the guise of Mr. Cool, Calm, and Collected, but Cas could see right through that. The way every question answered was a joking deflection. The way Dean never really talked about his feelings and desires, choosing to focus on the wants and needs of others.

Castiel made Dean uncomfortable. It was easy to see. He was stiff around him, gruff even. Gabriel had laughingly told him that Dean thought he was a scam artist. That didn’t bother Castiel. It wasn’t his job to turn people into believers.

But oh could he turn Dean into a believer if the man would let him.  Castiel had to bite his lip constantly whenever in Dean’s presence out of respect for the fact that he had no interest whatsoever in Castiel using his gift on him. Unlike Sam who had found peace in a session where he had received messages from both Mary and John, Dean was not a interested and Castiel would try not force it upon him. Sometimes, things slipped out, without Cas even being aware at the time.

Which brought Castiel full circle back to the problem of Dean Winchester being very loud. His beautiful soul just called out for soothing that Castiel _knew_ he could provide, if Dean would only give him a chance. Of course, he couldn’t heal all of Dean’s hurts, but Castiel was sure he could calm the tempest if given the chance.

So maybe Castiel was in love with Dean. Maybe he had fallen from the first moment he’d laid eyes on the man at a barbecue at Gabriel’s, flirting with his cousin Ambriel, and taking pictures with an old fashioned polaroid.

Castiel packed the bowl, bringing the pipe to his lips and lighting it. The smell permeated the air around him as he inhaled deeply, eyes closed as he counted to thirty, trying to achieve the maximum effect. He’d only need a few hits, this was a strong strain and Castiel really enjoyed the mellow feeling he got from it.  He felt chill, but not sleepy.

The wind kicked up and he had to wait a few minutes before sparking back up. He inhaled again, reaching down with his free hand to card through Aslan’s fur, the cat having woken up to nudge at Castiel’s leg. Cas tapped the ash out of the bowl into his palm; he’d learned the hard way that tapping it against his deck would result in hot shattered glass. He stuffed the pipe back into his pocket along with the baggie, which would stay in his beloved trenchcoat, a gift from his brother Balthazar, during the investigation in case he needed a break from whatever spirits he may encounter.

Castiel went back inside to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of orange juice and drank it standing up in the kitchen, as he awaited a text from Dean letting him know he had arrived. Cas had messaged him that he could come right up to the house, but knowing the way the man loved his car, seriously doubted that he’d want to get that friendly with the way the wind blew the sand around. A glance at the clock on the microwave told him that he had about fifteen minutes to get ready.

After a quick shower, the results of which Cas hoped were that instead of weed, he smelled like the citrus bomb body wash he used, he got dressed in a pair of navy slacks, white shirt and blue striped tie. He was probably very overdressed, but Castiel wanted the spirits with whom he communicated with to feel like they were being taken seriously and Cas just felt more professional this way. As professional as a medium could look, he supposed.

He was narrowing his blue eyes at himself in the mirror as he attempted to tame the disaster which was his hair when his phone chimed, unable to stifle the laugh at the ringtone he had assigned Dean; _Ice_ , _Ice_ _baby_. A quick glance at the message confirmed that Dean was waiting for him in the guest parking lot.  Giving up on his attempt to style, Cas just ran his fingers through his chestnut locks one more time before calling it quits. He shrugged into his trenchcoat, taking the bowl and the weed out of the sweatshirt pocket and sticking them into the tan pocket of his coat. Aslan showed no desire to come inside, as Castiel locked up the back door before heading out of the front.

Castiel gave a short wave at Dean whom he could see leaning against the side of the Impala, hands in the pockets of his ever present leather jacket. Cas felt his lips tug up in a smile at the thought of their shared habit of wearing the same outerwear all of the time. Castiel strode down the short wooden boardwalk towards Dean, and felt the man’s gaze ghost over his form. Castiel had to fight back a smile as his new co-worker schooled his face into a blank slate a little too late, as Cas had already seen the appreciative gleam in Dean’s eyes as they had swept over him.

Cas stepped up into Dean’s space, unable to help himself, drawn in by the scent of leather and sandalwood. If Cas moved any closer, the toes of their shoes would be touching. He watched the bob of Dean’s adam’s apple as the man swallowed.

“Heya, Cas.”

Castiel smiled softly, taking in the swirling storm of colors surrounding the fascinating man in front of him.

"Hello, Dean.”

 


	7. Lemon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a few days early as my state is being hit with its 3rd storm in two weeks, and I will more than likely be without power for a few days, very soon. Hope you enjoy:)

“Hello, Dean.”

The sound of Castiel’s voice was like liquid smoke and sent warmth curling through his belly.  The man was close enough that Dean could feel the heat coming off of his ridiculous trenchcoat. Castiel was staring at him intently, as though he were a riddle that he was trying to solve. Dean found himself lost in wide, cornflower blue eyes and his breath hitched.  The sudden urge to reach out and tug Castiel even closer startled Dean enough to have him stumbling back into his car.

“Cas,” he started, voice gruff, “personal space, please.”

For a moment Castiel just peered at him, head tilted as he continued to study Dean as though he had all of the time in the world.  Like it was completely normal for them to stand close enough for Dean to want to bury his face in Castiel’s neck just to breathe in more of that citrus and stormy-sea smell he always seemed to carry.  But suddenly, he nodded, stepping back.

“My apologies.”

Dean gestured to the passenger door and watched as Cas ran a hand across the hood of his Baby, a faint smile pulling at his lips before he opened the door and slid inside. Dean quickly looped over to his own side and got into the car.

“She’s a beautiful machine, Dean,” Castiel said earnestly as he settled into the seat, and Dean couldn’t deny that his words pleased him.

“Tell that to Sammy, would ya?  He’s always on me to sell her and reduce my carbon footprint, or whatever.”

“Yes, well. If you didn’t drive her, then someone else would,” Castiel reasoned, humor in his tone that Dean found himself returning.

“Exactly, man,” Dean said as he started the engine. Dean was surprised at the lack of tension in the car, especially after that charged moment outside. Not that he was complaining, Dean was happy to take a break from the awkwardness, for however long it lasted. “Did you want to stop for coffee or anything on the way?”

“I wouldn’t mind some tea, actually, “ Castiel said as Dean pulled out of the parking lot and headed down Main street.  “Is the destination far away? I was surprised that we were leaving so early, Gabriel has always led me to believe that you investigate at night?”

Dean stopped at a red light, and nodded, glancing at Castiel. “We do. Well, they do.  The whole ghost mumbo jumbo is their deal. I just follow them around with a camera.” Dean didn’t know what he was expecting Cas to say to that, or why he trying to provoke a response, but Castiel merely nodded politely, not rising to the bait. Dean cleared his throat, feeling a little guilty and determined to act like the adult he promised Sammy he was.

“But to answer your question, no, it’s only about forty minutes away. We always get there early so that the client can give is us a tour, show us all the hotspots. Plus set up is always easier when it’s still light out. Sam and Gabe don’t usually begin the investigation until sundown.”

For a while it was quiet, the only sound was the purr of baby’s engine and the classic rock station turned down low.  Another stolen look at Castiel found the man with his head cocked again, eyes squinting lightly as though listening to something Dean couldn’t hear.

“You okay there, Cas? You look like you’re out in space,” Dean couldn’t help the question from tumbling out of his mouth.

“Lemon.”

Dean blinked at the out of the blue response. “Excuse me?”

“The missing ingredient is lemon. You keep trying different spices like cajun seasoning or hot sauce but it’s just a simple squeeze of lemon,” Castiel’s voice is soft and teasing and sends a little chill down Dean’s spine.

“Enough. That’s enough,” Dean rasped out, before turning the knob on the radio up.

Castiel shook his head, blinking rapidly, as though coming out of a fog. “Dean, I’m sor-” his words cut off at the hard glare he received.

“Look, those parlor tricks may fool everyone, but not me. I don’t want to play your game, so save it for the camera.”

“I’m not playing any game with you, Dean. And I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to be read, but sometimes I can’t help it,” the sincerity in Castiel’s voice twisted something inside of Dean and he blew out a breath.

“Try,” was all he could manage to say, turning the music up even louder. Dean did not allow himself any more side-long glances a Cas, even when he felt those deep ocean eyes on him. They continued to drive in silence, only speaking when they went through a MaryLou’s drive-thru for coffee and tea.

Dean tried to focus on the lyrics as Blondie crooned about a heart of glass, but he couldn’t. Castiel had to have talked to Sam. Sam was the only one who knew that Dean had just been bitching about not being able to get the acidity in his mom’s Tomato rice soup correct. He’d never thought of lemon.  He never remembered seeing his mother add that in in all the times he’d watched her make the dish. Though it’s true, he was usually sick in bed on the days she actually made it, unless it was for his dad or Sammy.

“Dean, I truly am sorry,” Castiel’s gravel-laced voice had Dean’s fingers clenching on the steering wheel, the regret in his tone making it impossible for him to not meet his gaze. He sucked in a sharp breath at the apology clearly written in those cobalt depths. Castiel ran an agitated hand through his hair, causing even more disarray, and Dean felt his resolve soften even more. “I know you don’t believe what I can do. That you have some idea that I’m some kind of...swindler. I can only assure you that that is not the case, and I invite you, wholeheartedly, to watch me as I work. There are no tricks, no lies,” he paused and Dean felt his gaze on his profile as he watched the road, “no checking with friends and family.”

At that, Dean met Cas’ eyes again and saw a rueful smile on his face. Dean knew what Cas was asking of him. To give him a chance, to prove that his gift was real. More importantly, Dean believed that Castiel was in search of his trust. Dean couldn’t find his voice to answer, so instead gave a short nod. By the relaxing of his shoulders, that appeared to be enough for Castiel.

When they arrived at the location, they found a modern split-level ranch painted a cheery yellow. Sam and Gabriel were already there, talking outside of the  _ SSP _ van. Before Dean and Cas could even get out of the car, Charlie and Kevin arrived. The latter had met Castiel on previous occasions and they exchanged pleasantries.

“Alright, guys, let’s get in there and talk with the clients,” Sam said, clapping an arm on Dean’s shoulder, Gabriel already halfway up the walkway to the front door. Dean nodded, not having to give instructions to his team, as Charlie and Kevin already knew to begin unloading equipment.

“Cas, you coming for the tour?” Dean asked and he faltered a bit at the genuine smile Castiel gave him for being included.

“No, thank you, Dean. I prefer to go in blind so I am not influenced by anyone's thoughts or feelings.”

Dean chewed on his lip and nodded, not being able to fault that logic. “Alright, then. I guess I’ll see you inside later.”

Another soft smile was gifted to him. “Of course, Dean.”

  
  
  
  



	8. Loud

Dean followed Sam and Gabriel into the house where they were met by a woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties sporting a sunny ponytail and a chubby baby on her hip. The child was bald and drooling, gumming down on a cookie with a spit covered chin and a wide, toothless smile. Dean crooked his finger, waving, and the boy gurgled happily.

“Sorry, don’t mind Gus, the babysitter bailed. I’m Julia, it’s nice to meet you,” the woman smiled, friendly if not a bit nervously.

Dean hung back a bit as Sam made the introductions, just giving a casual wave when his name was mentioned. He followed with his notebook as Julia led them through the house, pointing out the areas of trouble.

“It’s mostly just noises,” Julia was saying as they followed her through the house. “Doors opening and closing, sometimes you just hear footsteps in the upstairs den, like someone is pacing.”

“Is it usually around the same time of day, or is it random?” Gabriel asked.

“Random,” Julia replied as they rounded the corner to go up the stairs.  At the top, she paused in front of an open doorway. “I don’t like coming in here,” she said, voice wavering a little bit. “It’s my wife’s workspace, she’s a writer,” Julia gave a proud little smile as she waved them towards the open door of the den. It was decent sized with a mahogany desk, hosting a laptop and some framed photos. Julia gestured to a family shot. “My wife, Meg, and Gus and I on his christening. She wished she could be here, but she’s on a short book tour right now.”

“Now, is your wife uncomfortable in here as well?” Sam asked and Julia shook her head no.

“Not a bit, she actually likes it in here. I don’t know how. But then again, she’s never heard the voice.”

Dean’s looked up from his notes. “Voice?” he asked, surprise on both Sam and Gabriel’s face for his participation.

“Yes. It’s hard to describe. It’s not menacing, so much as… massively annoyed? “

“Annoyed?” Sam repeated, with a little laugh.

“Yeah, it’s just like this feeling… I was up here cleaning, and Gus was crawling around after me. I set him up on the floor with some blocks while I dusted, and he’s was just playing, knocking them over and building them back up, just jibber jabbing to himself, you know? And I’m halfway done and I just hear  _ Get Out. _ But not like… like angry. More like frustrated. Like my presence was somehow interfering. I don’t know how I held it together, but I managed to grab Gus without running, and went back downstairs.”

“Were the blocks a loss?” Dean asked good-naturedly and Julia laughed.

“Yeah, I sent Meg back up here to clean those up.”

They finished up the rest of the tour, and after Julia and Gus cleared out for the night, Dean radioed to Charlie and Kevin where he wanted them to set up and made sure there were digital recorders set up in all the rooms since the majority of the claims were focused on sound. Dean wandered around, checking each room, while Sam and Gabe talked amongst themselves about the history of the house.  

“I’m going to go outside to the van, check all the camera angles,” Dean said and Sam nodded.

“Wanna grab Cassie too, while you’re out there, so he can come in and do his own walk through?” Gabriel asked.

“Sure thing,” Dean said and he couldn’t help but feel a little excitement at the thought of seeing Castiel in action.  As long as it wasn’t him, he could be objective. He left Charlie and Kevin inside setting up the last full spectrum and jogged out to the van to check the monitors and then looked around for Castiel.  A quick scan of the yard and driveway found him sitting in the passenger seat of Dean’s car, head back and eyes closed. Dean vaguely heard the door open up behind him, knowing it was Charlie and Kevin heading to the van to man their post. He paid them no mind and went around to the car and slid into the front seat. Castiel didn’t even blink, just sat as still as a statue and kept his eyes shut.

Dean would think he was asleep, but his body was too rigid, his breathing to rapid. He had to fight the urge to reach over and touch the man. Just a gentle swipe of fingers across those stubbled cheeks.  _ Jesus Christ, Winchester. Get ahold of yourself, dude’s probably trying to meditate or some shit.  _ So of course, he just stared like a creeper as he tried to inconspicuously breathe in Cas’ heady scent of citrus and stormy seas. Which was why when Castiel’s impossibly blue eyes blinked open at him, he gasped in startled surprise.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Heya, Cas. Everything okay? I was uh...supposed to bring you in, but it seemed like you were having a moment.”

“Mmm,” Castiel hummed. “Yes, I was just trying to center myself. Whoever is in that house is...quite loud.”

Dean raised a brow in surprise. “You can tell that already? You haven’t even been inside yet.” Castiel gave him a smile that seemed to say  _ Oh, you silly, silly man _ , but he looked so adorable doing so that Dean didn’t have it in him to be aggravated.

“Sometimes I can pick up on spirits from miles away. If they somehow know I’m coming.”

“Does this one know you’re coming?”

“No. This one is just a jackass.”

Dean snorted in laughter and shook his head.  Castiel beamed at him, looking pleased to have caused such a reaction.

“You ready?” At Cas’ nod, they left the car and headed into the house. When they passed the foyer, Dean noticed how Castiel’s gaze had already drifted up the stairs.

“Ah-ha-ha,” he murmured. “I know where you’re hiding,” Castiel stared hard at the stairs, but allowed Sam and Dean to pull him through to the kitchen where Julia had mentioned she could hear cabinets opening and closing at night.

Dean, now camera ready, focused on Cas who was emphatically shaking his head.

“No, no, no. You’re wrong. Yes, yes, this is not the problem. Not the area, nope. You see, I know you do. You see me, as I see you,” Castiel’s voice was higher, thready and Dean wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had chills.  He looked over at his brother who was staring at Cas in fascination.

“Riddle me this, smart guy. You have all the answers. Tell me what to do,” Castiel’s voice snarked in obvious impatience. When he abandoned the kitchen and headed for the stairs, Sam and Gabriel followed. Dean squared his shoulders and ignored the part that wanted to stay downstairs. It was just going on twilight, so they still had some natural light.

“Do you know who is up here, Cassie?” Gabriel asked and for a minute Castiel’s eyes lost their manic glint and he was himself again.

“He’s stubborn. Grumpy,” Cas said to his brother before his head snapped to the left to the open door of the den. “Oh I said grumpy,” he said to whoever it was Castiel appeared to be seeing.  “I want to say in his seventies. No ties to the house… an object maybe. He says it’s too loud here.”

Sam, who was holding his digital camera, made his way over to the doorway of the den. “Hello? My name is Sam, and this is my friend Gabriel. The guy holding the camera, that’s my brother Dean, and the man who can see you, that’s our friend Cas. He seems to think your agitated. Is there anything you want to say?”

The only noise that sounded was Castiel snickering. Dean felt goosebumps break-out on his arms as Castiel looked up. For a second his eyes bored into Dean’s before he cocked his head in question.

“Why are you here? This is no good, no good at all.” Castiel, in that odd, sing-song voice that wasn’t his own, shook his head over and over.

“The owner of the house, Julia,” Gabriel began this time, “says that you told her to get out when she came into this room. Is there a reason you don’t want anyone up here?”

Castiel clenched his hand, bringing it up to bump against his chin. “I don’t  _ like _ being awake,” he said through gritted teeth. “I like sleep. I  _ need _ sleep,” Castiel stressed, fanning out his fingers in obvious aggravation. “But not here, not in this house,” Castiel sounded so bitter. “With the Baa Baa Black Sheep,” he grated out, “and the clackety clackety-clack.”

Dean found his gaze drifting over to the desk with the laptop, and the family picture and found himself speaking.

“Because of Meg typing and the munchkin playing with the toys in here?” he said, eyes glancing over at a basket housing some kids toys.

“Oh, this one,” Castiel sang, “this one is not just pretty. No, no, more to this one, isn’t there, Castiel?” Hearing his own name come from his lips seemed to shake Cas out whatever trance-like state he’d been in, as his shoulders slumped. His usually tan skin seemed suddenly pale and sallow. Before Dean even knew what he was doing, he’d placed the camera on a bookshelf and hurried over to Cas who looked ready to drop.

Dean reached out and cupped his face, making Castiel focus on his face. “Hey, man, you okay?”

Castiel nodded and licked his lips. “I’m quite fine, Dean,” his mouth quirked up in a half smile. “I could use some fresh air though.”

Dean didn’t even look at Sam and Gabriel. “We’re on a break,” he said as he guided Cas down the stairs and out the door.

  
  



	9. Cheech

Castiel allowed himself to lean into the warm weight of Dean beside him. The man’s arm was draped across his shoulders as he walked Cas outside. Cas inhaled the comforting scent of leather and sandalwood, a bouquet he knew that would always be associated with Dean in his mind.

The  _ SSP _ van was open in the back and he could feel Charlie and Kevin’s eyes on him. He glanced up and caught Charlie opening her mouth to speak.  He burrowed in closer to Dean, overwhelmingly grateful when Dean staved off the parade of questions about to be spewed on Cas simply by raising his hand up at the pair in a blocking gesture.

“Not now,” Dean barked. A sidelong glance at his profile showed Cas that Dean almost looked scared and warmth curled around his heart at the knowledge that this gruff, kind man was worried about him. Castiel wanted to sink into him, to drown in his heat, but he couldn’t. This was par for the course and he didn’t want Dean to think he was taking advantage of his compassion.

“Dean, I’m okay, really,” Castiel said and Dean just rolled his eyes. Cas supposed the exhaustion in his voice made it hard for him to believe. Cas had to bite his lip to hold back a smile as Dean positioned him to lean against the Impala as he opened her trunk and pulled out a bottle of _Poland_ _Springs_.

“Come on, let’s sit in the car,” Dean said, pushing the water into Castiel’s hand. Cas shook his head as he opened the bottle.

“No,” he said, then paused to chug down half of the water. “Too hot, can we just stay out here?”

“Sure thing, Cas, whatever you need,” Dean said, taking his hand and leading him to the hood of the car. Dean pulled himself up to sit on the hood and urged Cas to do the same. “Why don’t you take off that coat and hop on up here.”

Wordlessly, Cas handed Dean back the bottle of water to hold as he neatly slid his trenchcoat off of his shoulders, and folded to hold in his lap, knowing he would need what was in the pocket momentarily.

“That was pretty intense,” Dean remarked as Castiel settled in next to him, shoulders brushing. “Is it always like that?”

Castiel raised an eyebrow at him, a faint smirk pulling at his lips. For someone who wasn’t a believer, Dean was sure interested.

Apparently, his thoughts were written clearly across his face as Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, humor me,” he said, passing Castiel his water back.

Cas unscrewed the cap and took another swig before answering.

“No, not always. Sometimes they don’t talk at all, and I see them, like visions. Sometimes I just hear their thoughts in my head. Other times like tonight, they kind of...use me.”

“What, like possession?”

Castiel shook his head. “No. It’s not possession. I can stop it if I want to, if I _need_ to. But sometimes it’s easier if they can say what they want to say through me rather than me repeating everything I am picking up on.”

Dean raised his brows. “How is that any different than a possession?”

Cas cocked his head. “Huh. I suppose it’s not. I guess it’s just that the word possession has such a negative stigma attached to it. This isn’t happening without my permission. I am allowing the spirits access. I think it’s more accurate to say I am a conduit.”

“You done?” Dean asked, gesturing to the empty bottle Cas was now fiddling with and he nodded. Dean took it from him, sliding off of the hood of the car to reach inside and place it in the cupholder. Castiel found himself grinning, knowing had it been his jeep, the bottle would have found its way on the floor of the backseat.

“Well,” Dean started as he budged up next to Cas again. “Whatever it was, it will look damn good on camera. Probably net you some new clients.”

“No.”

“No?” Dean’s tone was incredulous.

Castiel reached into the pocket of his coat, clutching at the baggie he had hidden there with his lighter and bowl.

“No, absolutely not. I already made it clear to Sam and Gabriel that they could use whatever information I get, but I did not want my face on video.”

“Why?” Dean asked, his eyes widening when he saw what Castiel had pulled out of his coat.

“Because the whole point in me taking this job was to slow down.  I needed a break from the constant deluge,” Castiel said all this as he carefully perched the small pipe between his coat covered knees.

“Uh, Cas? What the hell are you doing?”

Castiel arched a brow at him, sure that his expression conveyed that he thought Dean was being a tad obtuse.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he asked dryly. “Wait, here. You hold this, that will make this easier,” Castiel pushed the pipe into Dean’s hand, holding back a chuckle as the man just goggled at him. Cas reached into his baggie and pulled out a bud, carefully breaking it apart and packing it into the bowl now held in Dean’s capable hands. Cas took the pipe back and grabbed the lighter off of his lap, and sparked it up.

“Dude, we’re on a case,” Dean said, worry coloring his tone and Castiel almost choked.

“Yes,” he gritted out whilst still holding in the smoke, “because you of all people are so very invested in what I do,” Castiel exhaled, turning his face away from Dean so as not to bombard his face with the fragrant haze of smoke.

“Hey,” Dean’s said, gently now, “just because I don’t necessarily believe in this stuff in the same way you and Sam and Gabriel do, doesn’t mean I don’t respect that _you_ all believe it. Doesn’t mean that I don’t care about my brother's reputation,” he finished with a pointed look at the bowl in Cas’ hand.

Castiel found himself studying Dean’s face as though he were a riddle to be figured out. Castiel lifted the bowl to his mouth, lighting it again. He held the smoke in his lungs, enjoying the way it smoothed out his edges. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dean track his movements, saw how his moss green eyes fell to his lips.

Castiel wasn’t naive. He knew Dean was attracted to him. That part of their relationship, he knew wasn’t one-sided. But people were attracted to people they didn’t necessarily like or respect all of the time. Castiel knew Dean was waging a war with himself on whether or not he wanted to let go of his bias on Castiel’s true motivations. The only question was would the stunning man ever be able too.

“Recreational marijuana is legal here, I will remind you. But if it makes you feel better, I take what I do extremely seriously. I’m not smoking this for fun, believe me.”

Castiel smiled fondly at Dean as he saw the blatant concern blossom on his face.

“Why then?  Why smoke it at all? Are you okay? Is it medicinal? Is there something seriously wrong with you?” The questions came in a rush, Dean obviously not really caring if they were what some would consider too personal. Cas doubted Dean even realized that his hand was clutching at Cas knee in alarm.

“After a reading, my whole body becomes… tight, edgy, and sometimes I get the shakes, “ he paused to take another hit, “ I don’t like mood stabilizers or addictive drugs. This is all natural. It makes me feel better, and more importantly, I still feel like me.”

“Just more relaxed?”

“Exponentially more relaxed.”

Castiel tapped out the bowl into the palm of his hands and brushed the ash off onto his pant leg and tucked the paraphernalia back into his coat pocket. Dean’s hand was still warm on his knee and Castiel allowed himself a moment to lean into him, angling his head to look up at the stars that were peeking out. Castiel wasn’t sure how long they sat outside in comfortable silence before Dean finally spoke.

“Ready to get back in there, Cheech?”

Castiel huffed out a laugh, sliding off the hood and happy with the light, floaty feeling he had. He slipped his trench coat back on.

“Yes, Dean. I’m ready.”

Dean nodded at him and headed back towards the house. Castiel found himself grabbing him by the shoulder. When Dean turned, Cas quickly leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said and walked back up the drive.

  
  
  
  



	10. Slow burn

“So, it went well, then?”

Sand kicked up as Castiel jogged down the beach, the wind whipping around and chilling his ears.  Castiel tugged the hoodie over his head again, knowing the gust would knock it back again momentarily.

“It went better than expected,” Castiel panted out, the unseasonable bitterness of the weather urging Cas to jog at a brisker pace than usual. Castiel had gone back inside the house to tell the entity that he could find the quiet he wanted, the sleep he needed, by moving on and letting go of whatever was holding him to the location. He had tried to ascertain what it was exactly, but at that point, the answers were becoming nonsensical. Claims of knowing Castiel’s loves and fears, aspirations of tiptoeing through the tulips of his mind… it was all very disconcerting. All Castiel could do was promise him the sleep he desired if he learned to release.

Afterward, he’d gone to rest in the Impala while Sam and Gabriel had continued to investigate. Dean had come out twenty minutes later, grumbling under his breath about irresponsible brothers.

_ Castiel startled as the driver side door creak opened and Dean slid in, muttering to himself. “Stupid, irresponsible twerp.” _

_ “What did Gabriel do now?” Cas asked with a sigh, causing Dean to send a gentle smile his way. _

_ “Don’t worry about it. You ready to go home?” Dean eyed him up and down and Castiel cursed the blush he could feel forming on his cheeks. “Cuz no offense, buddy, but you look ready to drop.” _

_ Cas raised his brows in surprise and turned to look over his shoulder towards the house. “You’re done already?” _

_ “I am. Charlie can handle holding a camera for a few more hours, and it’s quiet in there anyway. It’s ridiculous that they should expect you to wear yourself out and then what? Sit in my Baby all night while you wait to go home?” Dean put the key in the ignition and started the engine, reaching over to turn down the volume of the radio. “We’re gonna need a better system, cause I told them that this wasn’t gonna work.” _

_ Castiel wasn’t sure whether to be touched that Dean was upset on his behalf, or annoyed at his brazen decision to basically speak for him. When Dean side-eyed him with a soft smile, Castiel decided to go with touched. _

_ “It’s not always like that. He was just...strong.” _

_ Dean glanced at him before his eyes turned back to the road. _

_ “What made him stronger than other spirits?” Castiel bit back a smile at Dean’s curiosity, endeared that despite his uncomfortableness with the subject, Dean was making an effort,  _ had _ been making an effort all night, really, to get to know him and his process with an open mind.  _ _ Cas cleared his throat and sat up in the seat, shaking his head a little bit to clear away his drowsiness. He felt as though he were in a thick fog, completely drained. As much as he was luxuriating in Dean’s presence, what Cas really wanted to do was strip off his clothes and slide into bed to sleep for the next twelve hours. _

_ “The longer a spirit hangs around, the more bitter they can become. All he wanted was sleep. Some peace and quiet. I’m pretty sure he was attached to the bookshelf in the corner. He kept hiding behind it and it looked antique.” _

_ “So I’m guessing there is no big, bright light they’re supposed to move on to,” Dean’s voice held a hint of teasing. _

_ “I’m honestly not sure. I can’t see whatever they see. I can really only see them. Some of them leave as soon as you say they can go. Others are just...stuck.”  _

_ “But you said this energy draining thing, it doesn’t happen all the time?” Dean stopped at a red light, and there he went with that look of concern that set off Cas’ butterflies again. _

_ “It rarely happens with residual hauntings, or with spirits that are just around because they choose to be and are content to watch the living without regret or jealousy. It’s mostly with newly departed spirits, who are usually so anxious to say what they need to say that they will take any energy they can to do so. Or like I said, bitter spirits, tired spirits who are just so frustrated that they can’t help but siphon whatever power they can from anyone who is open to it.” _

_ “And you’re always open?” _

_ Cas snickered. “That sounds dirty, but yes. I suppose I am always open.” _

_ “Well, I’ll let you know what Sam finds out during his research.” _

_ “Research?” _

_ “Yeah, didn’t Gabriel tell you how this all works? Don’t you watch the show?” _

_ Castiel smiled sheepishly. “Not really. I get enough of the paranormal all on my own, I never really felt the need to watch docu-dramas about it.” _

_ Dean nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I can get that. Basically, over the next few days, Charlie and Kevin will review the evidence and Sam and Gabriel will research the property, former owners, see if they can’t get a picture; I mean that figuratively and literally, of who might be in the location. Like, you say you think this guy is attached to the bookshelf. That’s something you should tell Sam and Gabe, so they can find out the history of it, see if it gels with what you got and whatever the audio and visual evidence shows.” _

_ “And you’re not part of that?” Castiel asked, curious as to what Dean’s role was, especially as a so-called non-believer, in the whole scheme of things. _

_ “No, not really. I do this job to help out my brother, and because the extra cash is good. I’m already a full-time photographer. I’m not an investigator, I’m just the cameraman. Not saying I won’t help out in a pinch, or on really big cases. I might sit in on some audio and visual review, but I don’t meet with clients unless I’m getting a tour to know where to set up the tech.” _

_ Dean looked like he was going to say more, but Castiel gave a jaw-cracking yawn which had him chuckling. _

_ “Alright, Haley-Joel.  We’ll be home soon. Close your eyes and I’ll stop playing twenty questions.” _

_ “I don’t mind the questions,” Cas said softly, even as his eyes slipped closed. _

“And that’s it? You talked and you napped?” Castiel laughed at the disappointed tone of his visiter’s voice, jogging to a stop and stretching his right leg in a lunge.

“Well, I did nod off on his shoulder and he didn’t get mad about the drool when he woke me up to go inside.”

“Oh, Cassie, no,” there was pure devastation in the words which only made Cas laugh harder as he switched to his left leg.

“What did you expect? For Dean to bridal carry my sleeping self up to the house?”

“Nothing as dramatic as all of that, darling. Just not what I thought you meant by  _ better than expected. _ ”

Castiel raised his arms skyward, lacing his fingers in an extension. “Sorry to disappoint,” he said dryly, receiving an airy laugh in return.

“It’s alright, love. I can roll with a slow burn as easily as I can enjoy a sizzling flash fire.”

Castiel sank down on the sand and drew his knees up to his chest. He turned his face towards the sun, and the wind whipped his hoodie off.  Castiel closed his eyes and inhaled the crisp, briny air.

“Then stay tuned, ” he whispered to the empty beach.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	11. Dinner date

_ From Haley-Joel: I told my brother about the bookshelf. _

The text came through as Dean was preparing dinner. It was a few days after the investigation and the two had been sending messages back and forth fairly frequently, Dean having found himself unable to stop thinking about the dreamy ghost whisperer, despite attempts not too.

_ From me: Oh yeah? Any info? _

Dean found himself in a unique position when it came to Castiel. Before he had spent time with the man, one on one, before he had seen him in action, he had thought for sure that he was a fraud. That he was using his so-called gift to scam people and for the attention.  Like he was some dastardly mustache-twirling villain with nothing better to do than relieve people of their hard earned money in exchange for messages from their loved ones.

Some serious soul searching had forced Dean to recognize that even if it wasn’t truly spirits that Castiel was connecting with, the man truly believed in what he did. No way was he that good of an actor to pull off that scene back at the investigation.  The truth was, even before a few nights ago, deep down Dean knew his steadfast determination to see Castiel as a bad guy was rooted in his own fears. Dean knew that Sam could never be friends with someone who was as manipulative as Dean had insisted Cas was. His little brother was too good at judging someone’s character, and if Dean was honest with himself, he didn’t believe for a second that Gabriel would ask Castiel to be a part of his team if he didn’t believe his brother was the real deal.  Gabe was too passionate about what he and Sam did to put it at risk with a fraud. Even if that fraud was his little brother.

_ From Haley-Joel: Apparently, it belonged to one Emmett Steel, a great, great Uncle of Julie’s wife, Meg. He lived in a Seminary. _

Dean read the text and snorted.  _ Well, that explained the need for quiet,  _ he thought to himself.  Dean laid out half cooked sheets of lasagna in a throw-away pan. He spread a layer of meat sauce followed by a ricotta and egg mixture over the noodles, then picked his phone back up to respond.

_ From me: That’s actually pretty cool. How are you feeling, by the way? Keeping to your no readings outside of work rule? _

Dean had barely started on the next layer when he got a response.

_ From Haley-Joel: Aside from an impromptu reading in the pet supply section of Stop and Shop, yes, I have been following my rules. _

The reply had Dean laughing as he finished up constructing the lasagna, topping it with a layer of mozzarella. Sam, who was researching their next location with Gabriel, would roll his eyes if he could see the gigantic, cheesy, spread for one.  It would take them forever to finish it, even if they used the leftovers for lunches. Dean looked at the clock on his stove. 4:14 pm. He debated with himself for a moment before he picked up his phone again.

_ From me: What are you doing for dinner? Have you eaten? _

Dean wasn’t aware of holding his own breath until his phone buzzed again and it whooshed out of him.

_ From Haley-Joel: I haven’t. Did you have something in mind? _

Dean grinned, typing out a quick reply.

_ From me: Preheat your oven to 400. _

  
  


* * *

“You made lasagna?” 

It was said with such obvious delight that Dean couldn’t help but feel a little bit smug as he stood in the doorway of Castiel's home, as he peeled back the foil top, tipped off by the aroma of basil, tomatoes, garlic, and cheese.

“Yep. you gonna let me in,” Dean teased and Cas jolted upward.

“Oh, God, sorry. Yes, come in, come in. You distracted me with my favorite comfort food.”

Dean followed Cas through a wide living room into a spacious kitchen.  Dean watched as Castiel pulled a pair of bumblebee oven mitts out of a drawer and laid them on the blush colored marble top of the counter. Dean’s eyes scanned the room. Wide countertops and stainless steel appliances mixed with the homey touches of vintage powder blue sugar, flour, and tea canisters. A cheery lemon yellow teapot sat on the stove and small pots of what looked like mint grew on the windowsill over the sink that granted a gorgeous view of the ocean behind Castiel’s back deck.

There was a picnic style table in blonde wood that sat before a half-wall separating the kitchen from the living room, with bench seats cushioned in same light rose color of the counters. A small wicker basket sat in the middle, housing napkins and was bookended by bumblebee salt and pepper shakers that had Dean smiling fondly.

“Would you like to put that in the oven?” Castiel asked Dean, shaking him from his musings and he nodded, walking over to where Cas had the stove open, warm air escaping as Dean slid the aluminum pan inside.

“I’ll open some wine, I have a red that I think will pair nicely,” Castiel said, bending to open a cabinet next to the stove that Dean saw had a built-in rack. He nodded in approval as Castiel held up the bottle of  _ Sean Minor _ for inspection. Dean was usually a beer guy, but a smooth glass of red was always good with Italian cuisine. “Why don’t you take off your jacket and stay awhile,” Castiel teased, his half smile lighting up his face.

Dean didn’t know why he was feeling so awkward and nervous. He was Dean fucking Winchester. He knew how to behave on a dinner date. Dean slid his leather jacket off and Castiel took it from his hands, trading it with Dean for the corkscrew and gestured to the wine bottle as he hung Dean’s jacket on a hook on the back of what he guessed was a pantry or laundry room door.

Dean concentrated as he twisted and removed the cork, and said “I wasn’t thinking, I should have brought garlic bread or something,” he turned to speak to Cas, only to bump back against the table to discover the man standing directly behind him. His ocean eyes were luminous as they seemed to search Dean’s face for permission for something. Cas cocked his head and peered at him, squinting in thought.

“I’m sorry. I can’t concentrate. I have to get this out of the way now,” Cas said and Dean raised his brows.

“Get wh-” Dean got no further because his senses were suddenly assaulted by the smell of citrus and stormy seas as his mouth was taken in an earnest kiss. For a moment he was frozen as a gentle tongue brushed across the seam of his lips, but then he parted them on a happy sigh, allowing Cas access as he searched Dean’s mouth with gentle strokes. Castiel’s long-fingered hands came up to cradle Dean’s face and adjust the angle to take him deeper, which Dean found all manners of hot, sinking in and bringing his own hands up to clutch at Castiel’s hips. They indulged languidly, ending on a tender tug of Cas’ teeth on Dean’s kiss-swollen bottom lip.

The blue-eyed man pulled back with a gentle smile. “That’s better. I think I have some _Scali_ bread in the breadbox if you want to pour that wine,” Castiel’s whiskey-soaked voice was even deeper than usual as he indicated his head towards clear glass cabinets with long stemmed wine glasses.

Dean nodded, not quite able to talk after that delicious ambush and knew that he was in for a world of trouble. The thing is, he didn’t even care. He had a feeling that Castiel would be worth it.

  
  
  
  
  



	12. Picture

                                                              

 

 

Castiel couldn’t hold back the moan of approval as his lips closed around the tines of his fork, and the heavenly taste of cheese, garlic and perfectly cooked pasta filled his mouth.

Across from him at the table Dean chuckled, a pleased smile lighting up his handsome face.

“I’m sorry. This is just very good, and I haven’t had a lasagna that wasn’t made by  _ Stouffer’s  _ in _ years.” _

Dean looked at him with such abject sorrow that Castiel couldn’t help the burst of laughter that bubbled up. When Dean’s expression shifted to one of astonishment, Cas cocked his head.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just, uh, I didn’t realize you could be more beautiful."

Dean seemed shocked by his own words, his face flushing with color and his hand coming to the back of his neck. This was a habit Castiel had observed over the years when they were merely acquaintances. Something Dean did when he was embarrassed. Castiel saved him with a simple thank you, warm from the words, even if unbidden.

A sharp meow broke the quiet and Castiel was surprised to see his feline friend pacing back and forth next to Dean’s chair.

“No begging, Aslan,” Castiel said, stern tone causing the cat to perk his ears up.

“Shouldn’t a cat named Aslan be orange or something?” Dean asked with a grin, holding his hand out for the grey cat to sniff at.

“Shut up, I like it,” Cas said, but there was no heat behind the words and Dean smiled at him from behind his wine glass, tipping his head back to swallow the last of the red drops.

“Bushy little thing,” Dean teased, scratching Aslan’s head inducing loud purrs.

“He’s a Norwegian Forest Cat,” Cas said and Dean nodded.

“Sounds expensive,” Dean remarked and Cas found himself bristle a little bit. Dean seemed to notice because he laughed. “It wasn’t a dig.  The amount of money I spend keeping Baby in pristine shape? I get it. Nothing wrong with splurging on something you love or gives you joy if you can afford it,” Dean stood up, gathering his empty plate and Castiel reached out to stop him.

“No, let me. You brought this delicious meal, I can handle loading the dishwasher. Why don’t you pour us some more wine while I clean up, then maybe we can take a walk?”

“Moonlit stroll by the beach. You trying to seduce me, Castiel?” Dean teased with a wink and Cas merely shrugged, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

Castiel used the time loading the dishwasher to settle his heart rate and collect himself. He still found it a little surreal that _Dean_ _Winchester_ was standing in his living room, drinking wine and waiting for him. When Cas came out of the kitchen he leaned against the wall as he watched  Dean peruse the pictures lining the mantel.

“Who’s the redhead?  And why are you awkwardly posing with a human blueberry?” Dean asked and Castiel laughed, taking in the awkward photo snapped of the two of them at the local breakfast cafe.

“That’s my friend Lily. We were at  _ Pancake Palace _ and they were running a promotion all week. We were the 100th customers that day. We won free pancakes for a year.”

Dean snickered. “Awesome. You both look petrified.”

“Yes, it was very uncomfortable. We’re both not great around people, but Lily tries to make it her mission for us to both be sociable with people at least once a week.”

Dean turned then, head cocked in askance, striding over to pick up the glass he’d filled for Castiel and handing it to him. Cas accepted it with a small smile before taking it from him.

“We met after her daughter died. I helped her a little in the healing process, so she kind of…”

“Adopted you?”

“Yes, but not in the creepy way that sounds,” Castiel grinned.

“You’re a good person, Cas,” Dean said, seriously and Castiel found him swallowing hard as the words coming from Dean of all people had so much more meaning.

Dean turned around again, and Cas saw him pause at a few pictures of Gabriel and Sam and Castiel took a moment to admire the strong lines of Dean’s back, clad in a forest green henley, the enticing sight of his bowed legs in dark-wash jeans.  He looked good in his home, was what struck him the most. Dean looked like he fit in Castiel’s sanctuary, surrounded by his things. The oversized chairs and sofa in seafoam green, the white-washed wood of the end tables, the simple brick of the fireplace and mantel he stood in front of. It struck a chord in Cas, how much he wanted to see more of Dean here. If he was going to be lucky enough to have that someday.

Dean had moved on to the bookshelf, fingers coming out to stroke the spines of some of his favorites:  _ Whitman, Neruda, Tolkien, Lewis, Vonnegut. _ When Dean found the small 4x6 frame nestled in the corner he picked it up. Castiel’s breath caught as Dean turned the picture towards him. In it, Castiel stood on the steps of his back porch, a carefree smile on his face with an equally cheerful blonde man standing next to him, arm slung over Castiel’s shoulders. They were both in gaudy Hawaiian shirts, cheeks reddened from the sun.

“Who is this?” It was a loaded question, one that brought up things that Castiel liked to keep buried, but that he knew he would need to share if he and Dean were ever going to become more than… then whatever it was they were now.

Castiel tipped back his glass and drained it, before grabbing the bottle off of the coffee table to refill his glass.

“C’mere,” he said, gesturing for Dean to hand him his, and topped it off as well.  “Grab your jacket and let’s go for that walk.”

“Cas-” Dean started, moss green eyes wide and concerned and Castiel reached out to cup his face fondly, thumb brushing Dean’s cheekbone.

“Let go,” Cas said and turned back towards the kitchen, knowing that Dean would follow.  He led Dean outside where it was cool, but not too cold. He headed to his jeep to grab his hoodie to pull over his thin blue sweater. As he rounded the corner, Dean following behind, a loud hiss sounded in the air.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean barked out, jumping back, but amazingly not spilling any of his wine. Castiel grinned as the swish of a long black tail came into view. The black cat stood behind the piling eyeing Dean with distrust that the man echoed back. Dean looked at him with a raised brow. “Friend of yours?”

Castiel shrugged. “Sort of. She’s a stray. I think she was left behind. She doesn’t come inside, but I keep food for her out here and she tends to hang around. Her name is Salty.”

“Salty, huh? Cause the beach?” Dean said, edging closer only to jump back as Salty let out another vicious snarl.

“Among other reasons,” Cas said dryly and Dean chuckled uneasily. Castiel went to the jeep and quickly grabbed the hoodie, handing his wine off to Dean to hold as he tugged the material over his head. He took the wine back once he was settled and reached out to tangle his free hand with Dean’s.

“Come on,” Castiel said and pulled Dean along and out onto the beach. The sky was lit up by stars, and the echoing crash of the waves was a familiar soundtrack, one that he found himself eager to listen to with Dean.

“Cas,” Dean said quietly as they walked, squeezing his hand gently. He didn’t ask anything. Just murmured his name in that inviting way of his and Castiel sighed softly, swinging their joined hands. A slight gust of wind ruffled his hair and Castiel huffed out a barely there laugh, nodding his head in acquiescence.

“Okay,” Castiel’s voice was quiet, resolute, and again Dean squeezed his hand. “Let me tell you about Balthazar.”

  
  
  



	13. Baggage

If anyone had told Dean a few weeks ago that he would find himself walking hand in hand on the beach, holding a glass of wine under a gorgeous full moon, with Castiel Novak, he would have said they were without a doubt bat-crap crazy. Yet here he was.  Their fingers tangled together and Castiel leaned into his space, gently nudging his shoulder against Dean’s.

 _Let me tell you about Balthazar,_ Cas had said, as they set off for their walk, yet no words had followed. Dean suspected he was gathering his thoughts and that was fine. Despite what his brother said, Dean _could_ be patient. Especially with a subject as obviously sensitive as this was bound to be.

They ambled along slowly, but not aimlessly, as Dean suspected Castiel seemed to have a place in mind. It was cool, but not uncomfortably so, but Dean was still glad he had his jacket. The waves crashed softly upon the shore, the lack of wind making them tame, and the moonlight was so bright, they could easily make out each other’s faces.

“You don't mind if I wait to talk, do you? I kind of have this special spot where I like to go, and we can sit,” Castiel’s voice was a quiet murmur, as though telling a secret, despite the fact that they were alone on a deserted beach.

“I’m in no hurry, Castiel, lead on,” Dean hoped he sounded encouraging and judging by the grateful grin Cas shot him, he counted it as a success. “Did you get the download on the next case we have?” Dean asked, deciding that just because Cas wasn’t quite ready to speak about the mysterious Balthazar, it didn’t mean they couldn’t talk.

Castiel shook his head. “No, I haven’t spoken with Gabriel today. I know he had some research to do with Sam,” Cas looked to Dean for his nod of confirmation, “but he didn’t really elaborate much.”

“Figures. Did he at least tell you it was an overnight case?” Dean asked and saw Castiel frown and he imagined he was thinking about Aslan and Salty.

“Just one night?”

“Yeah, for us anyway. We’ll investigate, you’ll do your thing, but Kevin and Charlie will stay behind with Gabe and Sam to go over the evidence and do the reveal,” Dean said, sidestepping a pile of seaweed as they continued on.  “Where are we headed, anyway?”

For a minute Cas looked confused. “Oh! I was thinking, wait a minute, you’re the one telling me about the case, how on earth should I know?” he said with a chuckle. “You mean right now. We’re almost there, at the end of this stretch of beach is the cove that you can see from the town lighthouse. It’s almost always quiet, we don’t get a lot of trespassers with the commissioner living on the beach."

“I’ll bet. I’ve met Crowley,” Dean said with a mock shudder and Castiel huffed out a laugh in agreement.

As they came upon the cove, Castiel gestured forward with his wine glass, still full like Dean’s. Dean saw a wide piece of driftwood, long enough for four people and headed towards it, sitting down and pulling Castiel right next to him. The dark-haired man smiled at him, softly, angling his knees towards Dean’s. He took a sip of his wine and Dean had to fight not to lean in and catch a stray drop of red with his tongue. But he knew that this wasn’t the time.

“I want you to tell me more about the case, but I’m afraid if I keep stalling I’ll never get this out, and I need to see if… I need to know that what I tell you isn’t going to send you running.”

Dean put down his wine glass so he could reach out and cup Castiel’s face, thumb brushing his stubble tenderly.  “ Cas. I’m not that easy to scare off, okay?”

Castiel licked his lips and nodded. “Yeah. But I have a lot of baggage, Dean. You should be aware.”

“We all got baggage, Castiel. Nothing wrong with letting someone else help carry some of it sometimes. Come on. Tell me about Balthazar.”

Castiel sucked in a breath and blew it out raggedly, and Dean pulled their laced palms into his lap, rubbing his knuckles gently.

“Balthazar was my big brother.”

 _Oh._ Dean hadn’t been expecting that. He’d assumed the man was an ex-lover or something to that effect.

“He would have been 47 this past May. He was ten years older than me.”

“When did he die?” Dean asked softly.

Another ragged breath. “Next month will be six years,” Castiel paused to sip at his wine again. “Balthazar practically raised me. When I was sixteen, I came out to my parents. My dad, Chuck, was a preacher. Gentle soul, very quiet. But my mother, Hester… she was a force of nature. For a long time, I honestly couldn't figure out how they wound up together. She was an heiress, you see. Grandpa Zachariah and Grandma Naomi owned a chain of five-star hotels. Gabriel, Balth, and I finally figured they wanted her to marry someone unassuming. Someone who could be respected in the community, but at the same time, be controlled. I loved my dad, but he was a pushover. He signed a prenup no problem.”

“Where are your parents now?”

“They died,” Castiel said quietly and Dean made a sympathetic noise before pressing a soft kiss to Castiel’s hand. “The night I came out, my mother became violently angry. Angry at me, angry at my father for daring not to care that her son was homosexual, especially being a _preacher_. She said she couldn’t stand to look at me. That I was vile filth, who was already a freak because of my abilities that she refused to believe were real, and if she had her way, I would be out of the house by the morning. How it tarnished the family name-which was rich, considering I wasn’t even a Milton-to have a sexual deviant living in the house.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean muttered and had to stop himself from clenching his hand in anger too hard and accidentally hurting Cas.

“Anyway, that night she decided she needed to get out of the house and she dragged my father with her. They were hit by a drunk driver, head on about an hour after they left.”

Dean’s mind was reeling. He couldn’t even imagine. Castiel stared out at the water, and Dean saw a muscle in his jaw tic as though striving for composure and all Dean could do was continue to hold his hand.

“Gabriel was away at school and Balthazar had his own apartment in Boston.  I knew, as soon as the police showed up. They didn’t want to tell me without an adult, but I was in Pontiac, Illinois and it was going to take them time to get back home, arrange flights.  But I knew, as soon as I opened the door.”

“Did… did you see them? Your parents, I mean?”

“No. Not even once. Isn’t that strange?” Castiel turned to him, a note of wonder in his voice. “I have been seeing and hearing spirits for as long as I can remember. God, when I was three I remember seeing my first one at a playground our nanny had taken me and Gabe too. But when my parents died? Nothing,” Cas let out a bitter-tinged laugh. “To this day I still don’t know whether or not to be sad or relieved.”

“I get that. It’s a big part of why I was afraid to be around you, for a long time.”

Despite the seriousness of the subject Cas’ mouth pulled up in a teasing grin. “Dean Winchester, afraid of a few ghosts?”

"Ha. No. Dean Winchester is _not_ afraid of ghosts,” Dean said.

“Not afraid to talk about yourself in the third person either, huh?” Castiel snickered and Dean shoved him a bit with his shoulders.

“I’m not afraid of ghosts, it’s just that my Dad and I didn’t really have a great relationship and I’m not too keen on arguing with him from the beyond, you know? Don’t need to hear what a screw-up he still thinks I am.”

“You’re not a screw-up, Dean,” Castiel said seriously and Dean angled down to press a chaste kiss to his soft pink lips in thank you.

“Let’s talk about my baggage another time, we’re not done with you yet.”

Cas sighed. “Well, after I called, Gabriel and Balthazar, they came home right away. Balth was the oldest, so he handled all of the legal things, he became the holder of both Gabe and I’s trust funds. He took care of selling the house and the family business because he wanted nothing to do with it and neither did Gabriel or I. Gabriel was already going to school for parapsychology because watching me communicate with the dead was absolutely fascinating to him. It used to drive me nuts. Sometimes I just wanted to be alone.”

Dean made a show of looking around them uneasily and Cas laughed as he’d meant him too.

“Is that how it is? Do you see and hear them all the time?”

“I used to, especially when I was a teenager. My hormones were all over the place, you know how it is. Hard to block things out when you can't even control your own body.”

He certainly understood that. When he was sixteen, the smell of a good perfume was sometimes enough to have him sporting a hard-on. He couldn’t imagine not having control of his mind as well as his body at that age.

“That had to have been rough.”

“It was, but I learned to control it, first through meditation, then through visualization. Now I can pretty much block it all out unless I’m tired or stressed out.  Usually, I have to consciously let them in, but every once in a while, they catch me by surprise,” Castiel said, then drained his glass of wine. “Anyway, Gabe was in college and Balthazar was 26 and living in a brownstone in Boston. He was a Chef.  He’d studied abroad and came home with this ridiculous _accent.”_ Castiel’s voice was infused with amusement. “Worked his way from sou chef to executive in under a year, for a Michelin star restaurant. They used to tease him, call him _Gordon_ _Ramsay_ the sequel, which he’d bluster about, but anyone who knew him knew he loved it."

“So you went to live with him?”

“I did,” Castiel said with a fond smile. “It took us a bit to get used to each other. It was hard at first, he wasn’t used to having people around who weren’t bed partners. The first time I got up for breakfast and encountered a half-naked woman in our kitchen I was mortified. But as I got older, the closer we became. I got used to the random scantily clad houseguests," Cas rolled his eyes affectionately, "He would sneak me into bars and then get so mad when I could drink him under the table.”

Dean found himself laughing at the mental image of a younger Cas slamming back shots in his trademark trenchcoat he always wore, looking like a shy tax accountant. “He sounds like he was a fun guy to hang out with.”

“He was. He truly was. The life of the party, as they say. Balthazar worked hard and played hard, and no in between. But he always made sure I had what I needed. We lived together right up until his death, you know? “

For a moment it was quiet as they sat together, watching the swell of the water, white caps rolling gently on the shoreline and receding. Dean didn't speak again until he thought Castiel had gathered himself.

“Cas? How did Balthazar die?” Dean asked quietly and when Castiel closed his eyes, Dean pulled his hand free to wrap around Cas and tugged him in. Cas rested his head on Dean’s shoulder, relaxing into him.

“He drowned. His restaurant had just gotten a huge write up in the Globe, he was being interviewed for _Food and Wine Magazine_ , and he went out to celebrate. He and a few of his co-workers got plastered on a dinner cruise. They were being exceptionally obtuse, fooling around on the railings, being moronic and doing _Leonardo_ _Dicaprio_ impressions. King of the world, you know? It was funny until it wasn’t. I kept telling him to stop, that he was going to get hurt.”

Dean couldn’t stop the gasp of surprise and Cas chuckled mirthlessly as he realized that Castiel wasn’t telling this story as it was told to him. He was telling it like he was there. “You were with him when he died?” Dean whispered, heart aching for the man held tight against him.

“Ironic, right?  Top Chef dies on dinner cruise. News at eleven.”

“My God, Cas, I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say. That must have been horrific.”

“I still dream about it, sometimes. It happened so quickly. One second he was there and the next he was gone.”

“Where was security when all of this was going on?” Dean couldn’t help but ask, a little outrage slipping into his tone.

“They were there. My brother and his friends weren’t the only rowdy ones around that night, but they still kept and eye. Security told them to get down. Michael and Zeke did so without incident, but Balthazar was laughing so hard. He just...slipped.  I tried to go after him, but they wouldn’t let me. I remember screaming and being held back. One of the guards tried to save him. He jumped in, but Balthazar never surfaced and it was too dark. They said that he probably hit his head on the way down, but... he doesn’t remember.”

It took Dean a moment, as he soothing ran his fingers through Castiel’s dark hair. When it hit him, his fingers stilled and Castiel tensed in his arms.

“He doesn’t remember? H-how do you know?”

Castiel took a deep breath and pulled back enough to search Dean’s face. Dean met luminous eyes filled with both fear and determination.

“Because he told me.”

  



	14. Scared

“He told you?”

Castiel told himself not to be hurt by the soft, placating tone of Dean’s voice. Instead, he straightened his shoulders and looked the object of his affection directly in his gorgeous eyes.

“Yes,” it almost came out as a dare and Dean just nodded at him to continue. “I imagine security thought I was in shock, which I suppose I was. One minute I was screaming and the next I was near catatonic. Balthazar appeared next to me and my heart just…,” he had to collect himself, “I knew he was gone and he wasn’t coming back.” Dean gave him such a look of profound understanding, that his heart ached. It was an expression only one who has lost someone very dear could comprehend.

“I’m so sorry, Cas,” Dean said earnestly.

“I remember him saying that. _I’m so sorry, Cassie._ Everything after that was kind of a blur. The police meeting us at the dock to take statements. Calling Gabriel and not being able to get the words out of my mouth,” just thinking about it made Cas feel as though he were outside of his body, dizzy and hard to breathe.

Cas could tell by the way Dean was gnawing on his lip that he wanted to ask questions and his curiosity finally won out.

“Did you tell Gabriel about Balthazar?”

“I didn’t have too. He just knew. It frustrates him to this day that he can’t see him and I can.”  Castiel stood up to stretch his legs and Dean peered up at him from the driftwood, with furrowed brows.

“You mean like, currently? You still see him?”

Castiel merely stared at him for a moment, watching the play of emotions run across Dean’s face; skepticism, sadness, and then a touch of pity. It was the latter that had him snapping.

“You don’t believe me? After all of…” Cas shook his head and Dean stood up to cup Cas’ cheek, thumb brushing his stubble gently.

“Hey, I believe that _you_ believe it,” Dean’s voice was gentle, but that only upset him more. Cas stepped back from Dean, giving him an incredulous look.

“You _believe_ that I believe it?” Castiel laughed, and it was a bitter sound. “Do you have any idea how condescending that sounds?”

Dean held his hands up in a defensive gesture as Castiel squinted at him, studying his edgy posture.

“I’m not trying to be condescending, Castiel,” Dean implored and Cas scoffed.

“Well, you’re failing spectacularly at that endeavor. So, all that talk about being afraid, about not wanting to talk to your dad, that was what? You humoring me?”

“No, Cas! God, no,” Dean raked his hands agitatedly through his hair, tugging at the strands. “ I do feel that way. I have no desire to hear what he has to say to me. I just meant you’re good at reading people.”

Castiel’s eyes widened, insulted at the implication.  “Oh, so you still think I’m a scam artist?” Castiel tried to keep the hurt out of his voice, but his question came out injured regardless.

“You’re putting words in my mouth, that’s not what I am saying at all!”

“Then what are you saying, Dean?” Cas demanded, moving into Dean’s personal space, bumping the toes of his sneakers against weathered brown boots.

“I’m saying that maybe you are so good at reading people and their situations that your imagination supplies a voice. You...inherently know what those grieving need to hear. I mean, that’s a good thing, right?”

For a minute, Castiel just stared at him, the only sound their ragged breathing from their raised voices and the roll of waves against the shore. Then an uncontrolled burst of laughter punched out of Castiel, startling them both.

“D-do you even hear yourself?” Cas sputtered out, his anger slowly ebbing away into some sort of sorrowful resignation. “Are you really in that much denial? That it’s easier to believe that I’m... what? Crazy? That I have multiple personalities or that I’m so, as you say,  ‘good at reading people’, he air quoted, “that I just _imagine_ conversations based on what I perceive the dead would say?”

“No. You’re twisting what I mean, or I’m not explaining it right. I just meant- _ugh_ \- okay, for example, based on what you probably heard from Sam about my dad, it’s probably pretty easy for you to imagine what crap he might spew at me if he were here.”

Castiel scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed. “How is that any better? I’m either playing you or I have some sort of mental deficiency that makes me concoct spirit conversations and think I'm channeling them.”

“I’m not saying that either!” Dean protested vehemently and Castiel smiled sadly.

“But you are, Dean. There are no other options. Either I‘m telling the _truth_ ,” he stressed, “I’m lying, or I’m crazy. You need to decide which before we go any further,” Castiel said, gentle now. He turned around and bent to pick up his empty wine glass, seeing Dean do the same out of his peripheral.

They started to head back and Castiel loathed the space between them. He wanted things to be different with Dean. They had made such progress and the fact that the man was still struggling was disheartening, to say the least. Castiel hurried his steps, wanting to get back to his house and nurse his wounds and begin to mourn what he had hoped was the beginning of something...extraordinary. He could feel a headache coming on and his limbs felt weighted. It was such a contrast from the way that the evening began that he nearly wanted to cry.

Castiel was surprised when Dean moved closer, sliding an arm around his shoulders. He held himself stiffly and his breath caught as the scent of Dean _-leather and sandalwood-_ invaded his senses. They strolled quietly back towards Castiel’s house, the air charged with unvoiced thoughts. Soon, Castiel could see the lights from his house and though it was him who had started back home originally, he now wished he could delay their arrival. That he could have some more time with Dean before everything began to fall to pieces. Yet Dean still hadn't let go, which gave him a glimmer of hope.

“I _want_ us to go further,” Dean’s words were unexpected and pierced the fragile air around them. “I feel… how I _feel_ about you? It’s confusing, and… and loud, and scary. But it’s also exhilarating and bright and warm and so many things that I can’t even describe. I don’t want to lose that before it’s even really begun,” Dean’s voice was quiet solemnity. They approached the bottom step of Castiel’s deck and Dean sat down, pulling Cas with him. Dean turned so their knees knocked, hands coming out to grip Cas’ forearms tightly. “ I spent a long time...most of the time I’ve known you, if I'm honest, avoiding you,” he chuckled but the sound was self-deprecating and Castiel couldn’t help but to be touched by it. Their eyes met, the back door lights catching the gold flecks in Dean’s green irises.

Cas cleared his throat and his voice was gravel, “Yes, I couldn’t help but notice that that,” he said dryly.

“I saw the way you looked at me. Intense, like you were seeing right into me…like you wouldn’t mind seeing more,” Dean’s lips tugged up in a smile at his own words, as though he wouldn’t mind that as well.  “I don’t think you’re crazy. Or a fake, or anything like that. But I don’t know how I accept something that I have fought against for so long. I don’t…” he shook his head, “but I want too. I don’t wanna run scared anymore, Cas. I want us to work because I think we could be… God, I think we could really _be_ something-”

Castiel had heard enough, bringing his hands up to cup Dean’s cheeks, he rushed forward to capture plush pink lips in a delectable kiss that spoke of acceptance, yearning and more importantly, a willingness to _try_.

Dean pulled back to whisper against Cas’ lips, “Don’t give up on me, okay?” before taking the kiss deeper. Castiel answered with a soft groan, hands slipping from Dean’s face so that his arms could twine around his neck. As they tasted each other under the moonlight, lips clinging, parting and clinging again, Castiel didn’t need the soft laugh of approval that floated on the air to tell him that Dean was worth the risk.


	15. Dakota

“I think I need you to read me.”

Dean reached out and turned down the radio in the car then clasped Castiel’s hand in his again.

“Dean…”

“No. I know what you are going to say,”

“Oh really? Are you psychic now?” Castiel teased, but Dean didn’t let himself take the out.

“Cas, the way I acted on the beach the other night...that was wrong.”

“So, you regret…?”

Dean side glanced Cas and saw his face was stricken. “No! No, no, not that! The kissing was awesome. So on board with the kissing,” Dean said emphatically and Castiel gave him a wide smile that made his eyes crinkle and his nose scrunch up adorably.

Dean braked at a red light, tapping his fingers on the wheel of his car.  “You were going to tell me to take my time, and that you would be patient,“ he looked at Cas again who gave a small shrug of assent. “And that’s because you are sweet and kind, and more forgiving than I deserve.”

“Don’t put me on a pedestal Dean. I’m not sure I could handle the fall,” Cas’ voice was teasing but Dean heard the vulnerability underneath.

The light turned green and Dean started moving again. Traffic coming off of the cape was congested already and they hadn’t even hit the bridge yet. The afternoon sunlight poured through the windshield and Dean cursed forgetting his sunglasses on his kitchen table.

“No pedestal, it’s just facts. You forgave me very quickly when let's face it: I was being a dick. I should have been...comforting you, you know? Being supportive. Instead, I was patronizing. And for what? Because I’m still scared of my dad? That’s not an excuse to treat you that way. Especially when I knew, I _knew_ I was full of shit.”

“Dean,” he saw Cas shift out of the corner of his eye, angling himself in the seat to better look at him. “I was upset, yes. I was more saddened than anything. But believe me, I know how hard it is to take that leap of faith. Especially when it goes against what you have always believed. So don’t push yourself before your ready. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Dean blew out a shaky breath. “That’s real good to hear, Cas,” he said, smiling gratefully.  “So… when do you want to do it?”

“The reading?”

“Yeah. I just wanna mentally prepare, you know?”

“If you’re really sure, we can do it after this case. Pick a day next week and I’ll come over to your house.”

Dean glanced at him, then nodded. “Okay. But just be warned. Me and Sam’s place ain’t quite as slick as your house is.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “As if I care about that.”

Traffic finally cleared once they went over the _Sagamore_ _Bridge_ and Route 3A was open. Dean happily picked up speed, smiling as the wind from the open window whipped in his face. A look at Castiel showed the man tugging on a pair of sunglasses, strands of his dark hair dancing as they drove along.

“Hey, Cas? Can I ask you something?”

Castiel tilted his head, brows lifted. “Of course, Dean.”

“How come you’re not involved with anyone?” Castiel looked at him flatly and Dean laughed. “Let me rephrase. How come you weren’t involved with anyone before me?”

Castiel picked up his Dunkin Donuts cup and took a sip of his coffee and Dean guessed that he was gathering his thoughts. “Relationships…” he began, “they take effort. They take work, patience, communication,” he shifted his eyes to Dean who nodded at him to continue. “What I do… it takes a lot out of me sometimes, as you’ve seen. Sometimes I’m cranky or tired. Most times I would rather stay in than go out to clubs or even be around people much. Finding someone who is okay with that is difficult. Who gets there will be days where all I want is silence. That is something you should keep in mind,” he finished softly.

“Are you worried that I can’t handle it, Cas?” Dean asked, a little afraid of the answer.

“You are a social person, Dean. You flourish in crowds, you’re a natural flirt and the life of the party,” Castiel laughed lightly, “it’s beautiful. Truly. You have such a light about you. People are automatically drawn to you. ”

“I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration. I know I’m a people person, but when you grow up having to sweet talk bill collectors into extending your payments… when you are eighteen and attending your brother's parent-teacher conference, trying to sound like a mature grown-up, you learn certain skills.”

“It wasn’t a criticism, Dean,” Castiel said gently and Dean grinned at him.

“I know. I’m just making the point that just because I _can_ be social, that I’m comfortable doing all of those things, doesn't mean I’m not happy to just chill. Fuck, I’m more than happy to just stay in and watch Netflix. To take a day and spend it in my robe eating take-out and reading. Or better, hopping in Baby and just driving for miles, no destination in mind.”

Castiel’s smile was beatific. “Then I’ll keep _that_ in mind.”

“You do that,” Dean said with a wink.

“With what I do, I don’t see the point in embarking on a relationship with anyone who can’t handle the way I live my life. The last person I was in a serious relationship with, his name was Ishim,” Dean snorted and Castiel lifted his glasses to narrow his eyes at him. “Really, Dean?”

“Sorry, sorry. Go on.”

“He worked with Balthazar, he was a pastry chef. I remember thinking he was so sophisticated. A little snobby, but nothing I couldn’t laugh off. We were together nearly a year and towards the end, things just weren’t working. In fact, he used to kind of parade me around like a party favor. You know, springing his friends on me for readings without asking.”

“Dick.”

“Yes, well. I asked him to stop, but you know how when we stopped for coffee today and I wound up spontaneously reading that girl?”

How could he forget? They’d gone into the shop to order coffee to go because the drive-thru line was wrapped all the way around the building. Dean had noticed as they waited for their order how Castiel’s personality suddenly shifted, how his head cocked to the side as his eyes followed their server who was filling styrofoam cups with coffee.

_As they stood in line, Dean saw that Cas had started wringing his hands and muttering to himself.  “Go on, sweetie. Just tell her for me. Poor little dove has been searching the house high and low,” he said and Dean stared, fascinated with the higher tone of voice, dripping with southern roots._

_“Everything okay, Cas?” Dean asked hesitantly and Cas turned his unfocused eyes towards him._

_“He’s just fine, sugar, just fine. Can you be a sweetheart and get Stacey’s attention for me?”_

_“Who is-” he started, but then the pretty little redhead serving them came forward with their drinks. Her name tag read_ Stacey _._

_“Never mind, I’ll handle it,” Castiel said, his voice once again the sexy liquid-smoke register it usually was. “Stacey? Do you mind if I talk with you for a minute?”_

_The girl’s wide brown eyes turned wary, and Dean couldn’t blame her, as she glanced around the shop. It had thinned out and the other two registers were no longer backed up._

_“Uh, sure. Just for a minute though, my actual break isn't for another hour,” Stacey wiped her hands nervously on her apron as she came out from behind the counter, and going to stand over by the napkin and stirrer station._

_“There is no way for me to say this without it sounding a little nuts, so I’m just gonna rip off the band-aid, okay?” Dean watched a little off to the side, close enough to be there if Cas needed an assist, but not interfere with what was being said. “So, I’m a medium and if you don’t know, that means I can receive messages from spirits on the other side. Now am I correct in saying that your mother has recently passed?” Castiel’s voice was gentle and the girl’s bottom lip trembled as she nodded._

_“J-just last month,” Stacey said, a little brokenly._

_“I’m sorry for your loss,” Castiel said solemnly. “Did you recently get engaged?”_

_Stacey’s lips parted in startled surprise. “Yes, how did you-”_

_“Your mother is very excited for the wedding. She wants you to know that even if you can’t see her, she will be there with you,” a tear slipped down Stacey’s cheek at Cas’ words. “She also wanted me to tell you that Wubby is in a vacuumed sealed bag in your Grandmother’s trunk,” Cas cocked his head again. “Okay-not the walnut one you keep looking in, the navy one that she used to keep all your dress up clothes in.”_

_“Oh my God. Oh my_ God _.” Stacey whispered and Dean could not help himself._

_“I’m sorry, but what is a Wubby?”_

_Stacey gave a watery chuckle. “Wubby is my baby blanket. We used to live in Atlanta, but when my mom got sick, we moved to here to be closer to Mass General.  My fiance, Sarah, she’s- she’s pregnant and I wanted her to have Wubby because my mom knitted it for me when I was a baby and I want...I want our baby to have it.”_

_“She also said to tell you that Dakota is a state, not a name,” Castiel said with a confused look on his face and the girl burst into laughter._

_“Oh my God, that’s definitely her. Here, wait, just let me-” Stacey cut off to pull out her cell phone and send a message. Dean had a feeling he knew what she was doing. “My mom,  she was always a fan of old-fashioned names; Grace, Rebeccah, Constance. Sarah and I used to tease her that when our daughter was born we were going to call her Brooklyn or Aspen. Just the other night during dinner we were joking that we would name her Dakota.”_

_“Validating that even though she is gone, your mom is still with you and that she is still going to be a part of the major milestones of your life.”_

_Stacey’s phone chirped and she gave a little squeal of excitement when she opened the message, turning the phone to show  Dean and Cas a selfie of an attractive brunette smiling widely as she held up a blanket in rainbow colors. Without warning, Stacey launched herself at Cas, who recovered quickly enough to catch her in his arms and hug her back, warmly._

_“Thank you so much,” she said, smiling through her tears._

_“You are very welcome, I wish you the best,” Castiel said sincerely._

_“Yes, and congrats on the baby,” Dean added. “Any idea what you’re really going to name her?”_

_“I don’t know, but apparently not Dakota!”_

 

“Yes, well Ishim, he thought I was just being contrary because how could I just read strangers, but be upset with him for springing a friend of his on me. He didn’t believe me when I said it was random, and that I had no control over who wanted to communicate with me. He started getting resentful and nasty-”

“Did he hurt you, Cas?” Dean asked sharply, already mentally planning on taking the guy apart if he had. Castiel seemed to sense this and sent him a soothing smile.

“No, he didn’t hurt me. Not physically anyway. But you can see why I might be a little “rusty” when it comes to dating,” he air quoted and Dean fought the urge to pull over and kiss his gorgeous face. “Why I might be nervous about my life being a little too much for you.”

Dean brought their joined hands up to his mouth and gave Castiel’s knuckles a soft kiss. “Cas, I promise you, despite my own hang-ups or whatever, I would never be ashamed or jealous or mad at you for doing what you do. Seeing the peace you gave that girl today? That was fucking amazing, dude! She is never going to forget that. You gave her a gift. Anyone who can’t see that? They’re not worth your time.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said, voice tight with emotion.

“ ‘Course, man. Now, you ready to get your channeling on?”

Castiel laughed as they pulled up to the curb and parallel parked between Charlie’s bug and the _SSP_ van.

“I love historical sights, but man I hate parking on the side of the road.”

“Well, don’t worry. I’m not coming in right away, so I will take care of her,” Cas said as he leaned against the door.

“My hero,” Dean teased before leaning in for a deep  lingering kiss.”

“Hey, Winchester! Stop eating my baby bro’s face and get over here!” Gabriel yelled. Dean threw up his hand, giving Gabe the one-fingered salute as he continued to plunder Castiel’s mouth. When he finally broke away, Dean was pleased to see a dazed look in Cas’ eyes and a soft smile playing about his lips.

“I guess I’ll see you in there,” he said and with one more hard press of lips to Cas’, before joining Gabriel and his brother at the entrance of the haunted  _Howland_ _House_.


	16. Howland House

                                                                  

 

Dean stood on the sidewalk as Sam and Gabriel waited to make their introductions to the resident tour guide of the _Howland House._ The home was located on the side of a dead end road, off of Plymouth’s Main Street, also known as the Town Square. It was across and diagonal from two churches, one white and one stone. Originally born of the same covenant in Scrooby, England in 1606, known as The Pilgrim Church, the congregation split in 1801, when half of the parishioners were unhappy with the leaders more liberal views. The white church across from the _Howland_ _House_ became what is now the more democratic unitarian church, newly named The Church of a Pilgrimage, whereas the beautiful stone church at the center-the First Parish Church remained trinitarian.  There were stairs on the far right side of the First Parish Church that led up to Burial Hill, which was the first cemetery of the Pilgrims in 1622.

If Dean was the romantic sort, he would say he could feel the history. Though they were only about an hour away from home, The _SSP_ team would stay two nights in America’s hometown, to investigate both the _Howland_ _House_ and the cemetery, which was rumored to be an amazing source for spirit orbs and EVPs. Dean was skeptical, if only for the fact that any investigation conducted outside was bound to have contaminated noise and possible interference. 

Since it was early summer, the Ghost Tours had already started for the season, and Burial Hill would be littered with tourists snapping pictures with their disposable cameras and iPhones within the next few hours. _SSP_ would investigate the _Howland_ _House_ tonight and the cemetery the following night after the _Dead_ _of_ _Night_ ghost tour guide team was finished. All Dean would have to do for that investigation was set up trap cameras along the perimeter of the cemetery, where any movement would trigger a multiflash of shots to be taken. Stationary infrared and full spectrum cameras would also be set to film near prominent graves and popular spots known in the cemetery for their activity.

The air was cool and breezy, carrying with it the hint of sea salt. Town Square sat directly across from Main Street, the alleys and side streets branching off of it leading right to the waterfront. Historical museums, the Wax House, and most famously, Plymouth Rock and the Mayflower could all be found within reasonable walking distance. Dean could see the barely contained excitement in his little brother’s puppy dog eyes, his inner history geek at full alert as he practically vibrated with glee. Gabriel was a little more tame, a little more collected though his golden eyes held the manic edge of someone just barely holding back an enthusiastic outburst. Dean could understand why. It was a great honor to be allowed inside of the _Howland_ _House_.  So far, no official team had been allowed inside to investigate, and the most evidence ever found was from the photos taken by the patrons of the Ghost Tour- shadows in the long windows and orbs outside of the building. 

Dean was willing to bet that most of those orbs were anomalies from the traffic lights bouncing of the First Parish’s glass doors, the glare of the street lamps, and most popular: insects.  But Dean would not let that stop him or his team for setting up meticulously and covering every angle.

As they waited for their guide to grant them access to the house, Dean glanced back to see Cas laughing at something Charlie said, head thrown back, late afternoon sun glinting off of his brown locks giving them a mahogany sheen. _Fuck,_ _he_ _is_ _so_ _beautiful_ , flitted through his mind, not for the first time. 

During the initial investigation, Castiel would hang back, perhaps take a walk and see the sights. Maybe sit in the back of the  _ SSP _ van and watch them along with Charlie and Kevin, though they would have earbuds to listen to evidence live and Cas, not wanting to have any information to influence his findings, would not. 

Dean debated with himself for a moment before yelling over to Charlie, “Hey Red, grab the hand-held and follow me,” Normally Dean would just audio record the tour so his hands were free to take notes on camera setup, and later it would be edited into Sam and Gabriel’s introduction, but this was a special occasion and he wanted the full effect.

Charlie jogged up to him with a wide smile. “I was hoping you’d call one of us. This place is something, huh?” she asked, gesturing around the square. “It’s like you can feel the history, you know?”

Dean grinned as she mimicked his earlier thoughts. “Make you wanna get your pilgrim cosplay on?” He sassed and she lightly punched him in the arm.

“Shut up. You’d so play,” Charlie said, camera raised and ready.

The idea had possibilities.  _ Cas could be a ship captain from England and I could be his cabin boy… _

“Dude, whatever has that look on your face, stop. You're freaking me out. Especially since I think my brother is somehow involved,” Gabriel groused, interrupting his musings. Luckily, Dean was saved from responding by the opening of the front door.

They were met by a tall, scholarly looking middle-aged man wearing thick glasses and a sweater vest. His smile was both nervous and welcoming, and Dean immediately felt disarmed. 

“Hi there,” the man said cheerfully, mussing with his fluffy salt and pepper hair in an endearing nervous gesture. “I’m Eli Hutchings. Welcome to historic  _ Howland House _ in downtown Plymouth.”

“Hey,” Gabriel said, reaching out to shake the man’s hand. “I’m Gabe, and this Sam, Dean, and Charlie,” Dean nodded at him with a smile while Charlie being Charlie shot him the Vulcan salute. “Thank you so much for having us. It’s an honor to be the first allowed to film inside.”

“Well, we have seen your work, and the Historical Society voted that if anyone was going to be allowed in to conduct such an investigation that it would have to be a group with integrity, one we knew would be respectful of the dead, and not just exploit them.”

Dean felt a surge of pride for his little brother at the reputation he had helped  _ SSP _ cultivate over the years and gave him a subtle  _attaboy_ pat on the shoulder.

“We appreciate that. Would you like to tell us about the house and some of the experiences that have happened here?”

“Absolutely,” Eli said, gesturing them forward and into the main parlor. Dean was immediately struck with how warm it was, almost a little stifling. Late afternoon sunshine streamed in through the windows, giving the dust motes a golden glow. The floors and the stairs were hardwood as was the majority of the furniture in the room. The air had the smell of antiques and wood oil, with a hint of old rope, which as a town of seafarers, wasn’t surprising.

“This house was built back in 1666 and many generations of Howland’s lived here over the years.  The first owners were John and Elizabeth Howland and their son Jezeb. Later, Jezeb and his wife Josephine would live here with their children John and Rebecca. In 1730, the final generation of Howlands’, John and his wife Sarah and their children, took over the homestead.”

“Wow, the ceilings are so low,” Charlie remarked and Dean had to agree. Another couple of inches lower and his hair would be brushing the ceiling. He looked over at Sam and stifled a laugh as his brother slouched to avoid banging his head. 

“Yeah, how you doing there, Andre the Giant,” Gabriel snarked, everyone laughing when Sam just rolled his eyes.

“Well, back in the colonial times, just like the lifespan was shorter, so was a human’s stature,” Eli gestured to the roped off furniture in the room. “You can see that anything cordoned off is original furniture from the Howland Family, everything else is a replica of what would have been in a typical colonial home. The majority of the art you’ll see along the way is also original. This,” Eli fanned his hand out, ”is Rebecca Howland’s original pianoforte.” 

Dean looked at the piano, it was mud-colored, with a sheet music holder that reminded him of a wooden window or picture frame.  He tried to imagine sitting at it without the seat creaking or worse, breaking underneath his weight.

“And is there any unusual activity that happens in this room?” Sam asked, notebook at the ready.

“Yes. Quite often we will hear the piano being played, and it isn’t any of the tour guides. There are strict rules when it comes to the property in the home. At most, they do a light dusting.”

“When you hear it, is it recognizable tune?” Gabriel piped up and Eli shook his head.

“No, it’s more like random keys being pressed. Imagine if a cat scurried across the keys or a child just being curious. It’s never anything we could say was a specific song.”  Eli led from the parlor to the kitchen with a wood burning stove and crude wooden table. The chairs were obviously hand-made, rigid and straight-backed and bare of padding.

“I have to say, none of this furniture looks the least bit comfortable,” Dean couldn’t help but remark and Eli barked out a laugh.

“Not much happens in here. You’ll see on the walls we have some framed handkerchiefs, hand stitched, which were made by the ladies of the household.”

Dean found himself drawn to one that had a little orange kitten playing with a ball of yarn. He saw the initials L.H. stitched at the bottom, the gait of the lettering somewhat wobbly.

“That one was made by little Lucy Howland,” Eli said, noticing where Dean’s attention had gone. “She, unfortunately, passed away at the very young age of six from an abscessed tooth,” Eli said and Dean cringed at the thought of it.

“An abscessed tooth?” Charlie repeated, voice small and a little bit shocked. Eli nodded sadly.

“Back then, they really didn’t have the correct medical knowledge to deal with something that nowadays would be a simple fix with some penicillin. We actually have had quite a few sightings of little Lucy Howland over the years. I myself have actually seen her skipping around the backyard.”

Charlie looked at Dean and he nodded, knowing what she was thinking and already making a note in his book to make sure they put a full spectrum on a tripod that would cover the backyard.

“What did she look like?” asked Sam.

Eli raised his hand to mid-thigh level. “ ‘bout this high, long blond hair pulled back in a ribbon. Typical colonial dress, dark, white bonnet. She was so clear. It wasn’t like one of those translucent wispy things you hear about,” Eli waved his hand about and Dean bit back a smile at the gesture. “But going back at least a decade-which is how long I have worked here-me and the staff have heard stories. The one that sticks with me the most happened I wanna say about five, six years ago? We had workers here at the house and at least four of them up and quit, including the main foreman on the job,” Eli said and Gabe whistled.

“That’s crazy, what happened?” Sam asked.

“Little things, misplaced tools, disembodied giggling. That was enough to freak some of them enough to leave, not even grabbing their tools. The foreman, he literally ran. He’d been outside on the ladder when he saw this little girl dancing around the backyard, and he was wondering how she even got in. You can see, out the window, it’s very highly gated,” Dean peeked the back window where Eli indicated and saw a wooden fence at least five feet high. “He said he tells her that maybe she shouldn’t be playing around because she could get hurt with all of the equipment. That she should go home. Except she just smiles at him and says that this is her home,” Eli pushed his slipping glasses back up his nose. “So he gets down, and he goes up to the attic loft where the guys are patching some leaks and says  _ ‘Does anyone know where the owner is?’   _ and proceeds to tell them about the little girl he saw who said she lived here. Well _ ,  _ Jim, the guy who wound up taking over for him after the whole incident, is like, _ ‘What are you talking about? No one lives here, it’s a historic home for tours.’  _ That was it, he was gone after that. Jim told me he never saw anyone run down the stairs so fast in his life.”

“What if it was just a neighborhood kid?” Dean asked, laughing and Eli shot him with a finger gun. 

“That’s what Jim said, and why he stayed, but by the end of it, he’d seen her too, just little flashes of her, playing outside, peeking around corners.”

“And he wasn’t scared?” Charlie asked and Dean knew he’d have fun teasing her later for the slight squeak in her voice and the way she was peeking over her own shoulder. As it was, he nudged her playfully earning himself a glower.

“Oh yeah, he was. But he wanted to get paid more than he wanted to turn tail,” Eli said, turning to lead them up a tight, winding staircase. “Over here on the left we have John and Sarah’s bedroom.  The bed isn’t original, but the wardrobe is. And this is a family portrait,” he said, pointing to a large oil painting hanging on the wall of what looked to be a very stoic family.

“Guess this was before they invented the Hershey Bar, huh?,” Dean couldn’t resist and Gabriel snorted. The painting depicted a stern, well-dressed man standing behind a shorter woman with a pinched expression, dark hair drawn back into a tight bun. In front of the couple stood two young girls, one with long blonde hair who looked about five and an older child that Dean would peg for about fifteen or sixteen.  She had dark hair in ringlets cascading over her shoulders and was holding the hand of a young boy who looked to be about ten.

“So here we have the most recent _Howland_ _Family,_ John, his wife Sarah, little Lucy, Hannah, and young Joseph. Now, Joseph, he was the only Howland child to see the age of twenty-one.”

“Jesus,” Dean muttered.

Eli led them out of the room to another little side staircase, shorter this time, that led to the attic loft.

“This is where Joseph slept,”  Dean saw a roped off area with a small bed and bureau with some toys placed neatly on the floor. “You can see some wooden trains, and a little desk over there,” Eli pointed across the room. “The chalkboard would have been because he was homeschooled, being taught his numbers and letters because he would eventually be the man of the house,” Eli smiled kindly at Charlie’s little huff of indignation.  “We don’t hear much from up here, just occasional footsteps.”

“What happened to Joseph, you said he was the only one to live over twenty-one,  right?” Gabriel asked.

“Joseph wound up marrying into a modest family. Mary Tilley was the daughter of Jacob and Madeline Tilley, and Joseph took over their farm when Jacob passed in 1812.”  Eli proceeded back downstairs, the rest following down and to the right, to the last room on the second floor.

“This was Hannah and Lucy’s room. What you have here is the original beds, wardrobe, and mirror. The desk over by the window has an engraving carved in it by Hannah herself.”

As they came fully into the room Dean couldn’t help but note that it was much colder than the rest of the house. Obviously so, by at least ten degrees if he had to guess. He made a little note down on his pad to have the full spectrum set up in the bedroom as well.

“It’s freezing in here, guys, make sure you do an EMF sweep,” Dean said quietly to Sam.

“It’s always cold up here,” Eli said, nodding knowingly at Dean. “We’ve had the room checked for drafts, loose floorboards, cracks in the window framing… we just really don’t have an answer. But we get a lot of stories of experience from both tour guides and guests here.”

“Like what?” Sam and Gabe said in unison, and Eli chuckled.

“Mostly we have people say they hear weeping. We’ve had guests literally just start sobbing with no idea why it’s happening. People leave feeling despondent, depressed. We’ve had tour guides become lethargic and borderline catatonic,” Eli scratched the back of his ear, “Mostly we attribute that to Hannah.”

“The eldest daughter?” Sam asked, “How did she die?”

“Her official cause of death was something that used to be referred to as ' _ Languishment’ _ .”

“A broken heart,” Dean breathed out, feeling something squeeze tight in his chest in sympathy.

“Yes. Come, if you lean over the rope you can see what was carved into the desk,” Eli said and they carefully peered over the rope, Dean making sure to give Charlie enough room to film.

“H.H. + A.R.” Charlie read aloud, and Dean swore he felt a breath on the back of his neck at the words. He shivered and shook it off.

“When Hannah was seventeen she fell in love with a young sailor named Ansel Ring. He was a fine young man, but poor, and when he asked Hannah’s father for her hand in marriage John told him to ask again in a year or two when he had saved up enough money to afford a home and provide for his daughter. It wasn’t a no, and they were still able to see each other, so Hannah and Ansel considered it a win,” the air in the room stilled as Eli held them captivated with his story.  “John himself had started as a poor servant, before working his way up to becoming the assistant to the governor, so he understood coming from nothing and the desire to prove oneself, so he had a soft spot for Ansel. In December 1778, Ansel decided to join the brigantine _General_ _Arnold_ under the Captainship of James MaGee. They were to capture British ships for cargo, and it was promised to be a very lucrative endeavor.”

“A quick way to earn the money he needed to marry Hannah,” Sam guessed and Eli nodded.

“Exactly.  He made plans to join the crew and come back with enough money to present to Hannah’s father so they could marry.”

“I’m guessing things didn’t go quite as planned,” Dean muttered to Charlie and she gripped his arm as they continued to listen. 

“The ship was leaving from Boston, but unfortunately the _General_ _Arnold_ ran into a severe noreaster the day after it departed. The storm was _so_ severe that Captain Magee began to make for Plymouth Harbor to wait it out but only made it to Gurnet Point off of the bay, which is about a mile away from here. The Captain dropped his anchor because there was no pilot boat to guide him the rest of the way in because the storm was too strong and there was no visibility.”

Charlie raised her hand to interrupt, “What’s a pilot boat?”

“Pilot boats were manned by local seamen who would guide larger boats around shoals and shallower waters that the ship captains were unfamiliar with. However, the weather was just too harsh for anyone to come out and meet them. By the second day, the snow and ice and wind had taken over the ship. The cries of the crew were so loud they could be heard over the wind on the land.”

“Oh my God, that’s awful,” Sam said, voice dripping with horror.

“They were finally able to get rescue out to them on the third day, but at that point, only thirty of the one-hundred and three person crew was left alive, and eleven of the thirty rescued wound up dying as well. Devastatingly for Hannah, Ansel was not among the survivors. She never recovered, and died a mere month later, on January 25th, 1780.”

Everyone one was quiet, a makeshift moment of silence as the story settled in. 

“Are the crew members buried nearby?” Gabriel was the first to speak again and Eli nodded.

“Yes. You’re investigating Burial Hill as well, aren’t you?” at Sam and Gabe’s nod he continued, “You’ll find a monument there marking the mass grave.”

Dean heaved out a sigh. “Alright. Thank you, Eli. Sam, Gabriel, Charlie and I are gonna go talk to Kevin about set-up, anything specific you want before I get started?”

“No, man, you know what to do,” Gabriel said, pulling a lollipop out of his shirt pocket, unwrapping it and popping it into his mouth.

“Let’s go, kiddo,” Dean said, slinging an arm around Charlie’s slight shoulders.

“You know,” Charlie said as they started down the stairs. “I was a lot more excited about this investigation  _ before _ I heard that story.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” he grumbled, walking out the front door and heading straight to Cas because he suddenly felt the need to be wrapped in his arms.

 

 


	17. I wuv hugs

When Castiel saw Dean jog out of the building with his arm around Charlie, he wondered if something was up. When he left her with Kevin and continued to stride in Castiel’s direction, without pause, he  _ knew _ something was up. And when Cas put down his take-out box of Happy Garden chicken lo-mein just in time for Dean to burrow into him, arms slipping in underneath Castiel’s trenchcoat and burying his face in Cas’ neck, he ached to ask what was wrong.

But he didn’t, because he knew it had something to do with the case, and Castiel could not receive any spoilers if he wanted an unbiased reading. However, what he could do was hold Dean as tight as he could and run a soothing hand up and down his back and whisper assurances in his ear.

“You’re okay, Dean. It’s gonna be fine,” Castiel murmured, kneading his back as he rubbed, feeling Dean’s tight muscles gradually loosening as his breathing slowed, small puffs of air heating the crook of Cas’ neck.

“I’m sorry,” Dean mumbled into Cas’ skin and Castiel could hear the embarrassment in his tone. “I was fine when I was inside, I swear. But it was like as soon as stepped out into the fresh air…”

Castiel merely hummed, giving Dean his moment to collect himself.  Cas looked up at the third window on the second flower of the house.  The little blonde girl he’d been playing peek-a-boo with while eating his dinner waved to him, smiling at him enchantingly. He wondered what her name was.

After another minute, Dean pulled back and scratched the back of his neck nervously. “I’m sorry,” he said again, “you must think I’m ridiculous.”

Castiel tilted his head, studying him; the green eyes flecked with gold, his lightly freckled cheeks stained red with the shame of being caught having a vulnerable moment. Cas slid his hands up Dean’s arms before looping them around Dean’s neck, crossed at the wrist.

“Dean, I could never think you were ridiculous for expressing emotion. I’m just so happy that you trust me enough to share them with me.”

Dean chuckled, eyes dancing away and back again. “I love how you talk,” he said and Cas raised his brows.

“How do I talk?” he asked, more than a little curious.

“Like you mean it,” he said quietly, and Cas knew he wasn’t just talking about the resolute way spoke his words.

“Of course I do. I want to be a safe place for you,” Castiel said, surprised at his own boldness, not wanting to scare Dean away with too much intimacy too soon, but unable to stop himself. Dean looked more disbelieving than scared and Cas honestly didn’t know which was sadder. The thought had him leaning forward, wanting to chase the look of incredulousness off of Dean’s face by catching his lips in a soft kiss. Their mouths brushed against each other gently, then clung for a beat, the world outside of their personal bubble forgotten for just a moment. It was such a sweet second, Cas could swear he felt it down to his soul.

Dean’s fingers clenched on Cas’ hips as they broke apart and he could tell by the enlightened spark in his eyes that he’d felt it too.

“I wasn’t expecting this to happen with you, you know?”  Dean’s tone was gruff. “I always thought you were hot. Not gonna lie about that, or how I’ve thought about what it would have been like between us on my memory foam over the years,” Castiel couldn’t stop the side of his mouth for tugging up in a smile at the admission, “But I never thought if I took a chance to know you… like  _ really _ know you, that I would be so utterly defenseless against you.”

Castiel didn’t know quite what to say to that, but at least Dean didn’t look too upset by it. In fact, he seemed calmer.

“Are you okay now?” Cas asked and Dean nodded, chewing on his lip, distracting Cas’ eyes for a second and making Dean chuckle.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I gotta admit though, I’m a little worried about you. If the house got to me this much, how is it gonna affect you? Maybe you should sit this one out,” Dean said but Cas shook his head.

“No, Dean.”

“But you don’t know what-”

“Dean, I appreciate your concern, but this is what I do. I can’t just blow off my obligations.”

“Even if it keeps you safe?” Dean’s voice had risen just a little bit.

Castiel cupped Dean’s cheek, stroking his stubble with his thumb. “I know you’re worried, and I lo-I’m grateful that you care so much, but I need you to trust that I can do my job. I’ve been doing this kind of thing for years, you know,” Castiel reminded him gently and it seemed to blow the wind out of Dean’s sails. “Now, don’t you need to set up?”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, just waiting for Sam and Gabriel to finish up with Eli, get the closing routine so we can lock up properly when we’re done here, decide what time to meet back here and give him his spare keys back.”

“Pretty trusting of this Eli guy,” Cas teased, “what if you run off with his butter churn?”

“Yeah, but how many of those do I  _ really _ need?” Dean joked back and Cas laughed. “You gonna watch in the van before it’s your turn to come in?”

“No, I think I’m going to sit in the car and meditate until you text me to come in.”

“No…?” Dean mimed smoking a joint and Cas rolled his eyes.

“In your car? We may have only recently started dating, Dean, but I still know better than to smoke inside of your Baby,” Castiel said and Dean angled his head down for a quick press of lips.

“I’d probably make an exception for you if you needed it,” he murmured against Cas’ lips, and he felt warm inside for knowing that Dean meant it.

“That’s good to know.  Now go on, here come our brothers. God, look, they’re practically vibrating with excitement, aren’t they?”

Dean snorted, “Yeah, they’re hiding it well,” he deadpanned, both of them turn to watch Sam bouncing in his shoes as Gabriel gesture widely at Kevin with a bright blue lollipop. Dean kissed him one more time, giving his hand a final squeeze before he headed over to the group at the van.

Castiel glanced back up at the window and saw a different figure this time. Instead of a cheerful little girl, he saw a woman, with lank, curly dark hair, face drawn tight and cheeks sunken in. She placed a hand on the window and even from down in the parking lot, Castiel could see the sharp bones of her wrist. The poor thing look emaciated, and when she turned and locked her gaze on Cas, he could see her eyes were cold and dead, like a shark’s. Castiel repressed a shudder and quickly slid into the Impala, comforting himself with the scent of Dean, leather, and sandalwood soothing him as he breathed, in and out, forcing himself to center.

* * *

 

  
Dean, Charlie, and Kevin made quick work of the set-up, and he was happy with the camera angles they captured. It was a fairly easy endeavor anyway. Even though it was two stories, it was a relatively small home.

Dean nodded in approval as the monitors in mobile command showed all of the coverage. A full-spectrum camera captured Hannah and Lucy’s room, angled to catch the bed and carved desk by the window. They’d decided to go with the thermal imaging camera in the fenced in yard, another full spectrum in the main room and the Howland’s bedroom. With Eli’s permission, a digital recorder was allowed to sit on the piano, and on the desk in the girl’s room, to record continuously through the night. A Geophone was placed on the floor near the window.

Sam and Gabriel would go in armed with digital recorders and an EMF detector and a trigger object or two.

“Everything looks great, ” Dean said to his team.

“Do you guys think I could come in for a little bit and watch you work? I kind of feel really invested after hearing the stories. Only if it’s okay?” Charlie’s tone was hopeful.

“You okay with that, Kevin?” Dean asked and the young man put up his hands.

“I’m all set,” he said, “the only investigating I need to do is behind these headphones,” Kevin said emphatically. “I got these covered,” he gestured to the monitors.

“Let me check with Sam and Gabe, if it’s cool with them it’s cool with me,” Dean said, hopping out of the back of the van to go talk to the two investigators taking snapshots of the house and churches.

“Cameras are up and running if you wanna check them out,” he called out to Gabe.

“Great, we’ll be right there.  Wanna go get the baby doll and the remote control car out of the front seat, Sammykins?”

“Stop calling me that,” Sam protested, “and yes, I’ll get them.”

Dean snickered a bit at Sam’s annoyed expression at the nickname and Gabriel winked at him in solidarity, as teasing Sam was a pastime they both shared.

“Are you guys alright with Charlie coming in?  She’s pretty invested now, and I know you guys have been talking about getting her trained up to investigate. This could be a good first case for her. Small location, lots of hands on deck.”

“I don’t have a problem with that,” Gabriel said. “How about you, Sammoose?” Sam leaned back out of the driver's side of the van to flip Gabriel off. Gabe turned back to Dean, “I think he’s fine with it.”

* * *

 

Dean followed behind Sam with the handheld as he walked through the parlor. Gabriel was upstairs with Charlie, conducting an EVP session in the attic loft. There wasn’t much activity reported up there, but it would be a good spot to cut her teeth on. Sam sat on the floor, arranging his giant limbs until he was cross-legged and Dean huffed out a little laugh.

“Shaddup,” Sam grunted out. “Let’s see you get down here without your knees creaking, old man.”

Dean made a face and proceeded to sit down on the floor, ignoring said creaks and pops. He was thankful the floor was clean, waxed to a sheen. Moonlight poured in through the window, leaving a pale stripe across the floor.

“Did you guys do an EMF sweep up in Hannah’s room?” Dean asked quietly and Sam nodded.

“Yeah, it was fifty-nine degrees. The rest of the house measured at a steady sixty-eight. And you know how Eli said that that guy Jim started seeing things peeking around the corners?”

“Yeah? You see something?”

“A few times when we were going through the rooms. Out of the corner of my eye. Like now, too. Where the light comes in over on the floor over there?”

Dean nodded, turning his head to look at the swathe of moonlight again.

“I keep seeing a little shadow pass in front of it,” Sam said softly, then raising his voice a bit, “Lucy? Lucy Howland, are you here with us? You don’t have to be afraid. You can come out,”

The room remained quiet, so Sam continued, “My name is Sam, and this guy in front of me, is my brother Dean.”

“Hi Lucy,” Dean said, injecting warmth in his tone.

“Lucy, can you tell me how old you are? This little rectangle I’m holding in my hand, it’s… it’s kind of like magic, and if you get real close to it and speak really loud and clear, it might be able to pick up what you're saying, do you understand? It will copy your words so I can hear them.”

Again it was quiet, but Dean thought he did see the corner of the room had darkened a little bit. It could have been his eyes playing tricks, but just in case he angled the camera to get both the corner and Sam in the shot.

“Lucy, I saw that you have some toys in your room. Well, we brought you some toys to play with too. Over there on that chair is one of my brother’s favorite teddy bears,” there was amusement in Sam’s voice as he pointed out the stuffed brown bear wearing a blue tee-shirt and Dean rolled his eyes at Sam’s expectant expression.

Dean cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, he’s… he’s my favorite. If you squeeze his paw he’ll even talk to you,”  he said. There were five beats of quiet, then:

“ _I wuv hugs_!”

Dean jumped a little and Sam sucked in a breath as the childish voice of the toy broke the silence.

“Very good, Lucy!” Sam’s voice trembled a little bit, but still managed to remain welcoming. “Can you do it again, just so we can be sure that it’s you?  Ready? On the count of three, okay? One… two... thr-”

 _“I wuv hugs!_ ” followed by a barely there giggle.

“That is so great, Lucy, you’re doing such a great job. Do you want to try something else? Dean brought another favorite toy of his,” Sam said and Dean couldn’t even get aggravated because he was a guy, and all guys loved remote controlled cars.

“Yeah, Lucy, this is a good one,” Dean said, turning on the floor and facing into the kitchen area where a remote control sat on the kitchen table, with a black jeep underneath, facing into the living room. “On the table is a something we call a remote and there is a little red button on it, you see it?”

Sam got up and walked over to the table and picked up. “It’s right here. And here, “ Sam bent down and picked up the jeep,” is a car. See these on the bottom?” Sam’s fingers spun the tires, ”These are the wheels, and if you press the red button, it will make the wheels spin and the car will roll across the floor. Sounds pretty neat, right? Why don’t you try it? Will do it on the count of three again, okay? One… Two… Three.”

Nothing happened.

“That’s okay. You can try again whenever you want to, okay? Can you tell me why you’re still here?” Sam’s words were gentle and he and Dean both went rigid when they hear a soft murmur.

“You heard that too?” Dean asked and Sam nodded, stopping his recorder and rewinding it back a few seconds. Sam held the recorder up and Dean scooched in a little closer to listen.  Sam hit the playback and his voice came back out of the speakers.

“  _ ‘Can you tell me why you’re still here?’... ‘She needs me _ ’ ”

“She needs me!” Sam repeated excitedly as he pressed stop.

“Holy shit,” Dean breathed out and Sam swatted at him.

“Language!” he hissed.

“Sorry, sorry,” Dean said.

“Who needs you, Lucy?” Sam asked eagerly, but this time there was nothing. “She may have worn herself out,” he said, turning his head at the sound of Gabriel and Charlie coming back down the stairs.

“Well, we got nothing up in the attic, how ‘bout you guys?”

Dean and Sam just looked at each other.

“I think it’s time to get Cas in here,” Sam said.

“Okay, let’s do it,” Gabriel said and Dean pulled out his phone.

_ To Haley-Joel: Alright, baby. Time for you to come do your thing. _

* * *

 

Dean had his camera trained on the door when Cas let himself in. He had to push back the urge to meet him with a kiss and instead continued to film. Even though Cas wouldn’t be in the final video edit, he still needed to record the findings.  He watched as Cas stuck his hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat, and cocked his head to the side. Then he smiled and crouched down, leaning forward as though listening intently. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and held it out, rising to standing and slowly walking over to Sam. Dean noticed through the full spectrum he was filming that Cas’ eyes were unnaturally wide and his movements stiff.

Cas beckoned Sam closer to him, and whispered loudly, “She doesn’t want you here. You should go,” Castiel turned back around, skipping over to the teddy bear and picking it up. He squeezed the paw, giggling delightedly when the bear spouted his line.

“ _I wuv hugs!_ ” chimed the bear.

“I want to keep this,” he sing-songed.

“Cas?” Dean asked tentatively and found himself being studied.

“Cas said I could play,” Castiel said, voice almost smug, and then he giggled again, the sound eerie coming out of his adult mouth. “He thinks your pretty. I told him that boys are  _ handsome _ , not pretty.”

Dean swallowed harshly, a tight ball forming in his stomach as it became clear that Castiel had let the little girl in as he held the bear by the arms and twirled around, trench coat billowing around him.

“Lucy?”

“Lucy Howland,” Castiel said smartly, squeezing the paw again.

“Lucy, how old are you?” Gabriel asked this time, laying a hand on Charlie who seemed frozen next to him. Perhaps she wasn’t as ready for this as they all thought. In all fairness, Dean didn’t know if he was ready either as he watched Castiel- _ not Castiel, _ Lucy, look over at Gabe and give a guileless smile.

“I’m going to be seven years old. Just as soon as he gets here,” Lucy said, voice prim and proper as she skipped around the room in Cas’ body.

“H-him, who, Lucy?” Dean found himself stammering and Lucy stopped and did a little spin before skipping over to him. She leaned in close to Dean’s face and he brought the camera down, moonlight illuminating vacant blue eyes, not a trace of Castiel in sight.

“Ansel, silly,” she whispered and the smell of lavender overtaking Cas’ sea-salt citrus made his stomach churn. “Shhh. We aren’t supposed to talk about it, or sissy will get mad.”

_ BANG _

Everyone startled and looked towards the staircase as a door upstairs slammed shut. Lucy turned to stare at Dean with Cas’ eyes wide and terrified.  “Too late!” she cried, Castiel’s voice high and reedy before his body collapsed in Dean’s arms, eyes rolled up to the back of his head.

“Cas! “ Dean dropped the camera, not giving a fuck about the expensive equipment as he lowered Castiel to the floor. Before Dean could even check if the man was breathing, he sat up, glaring daggers at Dean and the others surrounding them on the floor.

“What. Do. You. Want?” the voice that came out of Cas now was angry, “why are you here?”

Sam spoke up, drawing Cas- _ Hannah’s _ \- attention. “We just want to speak with you and find out if you’re alright.”

A laugh poured out of Castiel, but there was nothing humorous about the sound. It was dark and twisted and so coated in pain that Dean’s heart ached from hearing it.

“Do I look alright to you? DO I?” Castiel’s voice roared, Hannah in complete control and Gabriel took a step back, staring at his brother, horrified. Hands pushed against Dean as he watched Cas’ body rise, backing up towards the staircase. “Get out of my house, or I’ll NEVER give him back to you.”

“Castiel… baby, if you’re in there, you need to come back to me now,” Dean tried to keep his voice steady but he’d never been more terrified in his life.

Castiel’s head twisted, and his eyes narrowed, “Castiel is busy.”

“No. No, come on, Cas-”

“Cas!” Hannah screamed, mockingly and Dean fought back nausea at the bitter way she twisted his voice. “I want you to leave. Now. Please. Please, just leave!” the words rapidly turned from harsh and cold to pleading sobs, as Castiel’s whole body seemed suddenly wracked with grief.  He surged up the stairs, and Dean chased after him, nearly tripping up the steps.

“Somebody turn on the fucking lights,” he yelled down to Gabriel and Sam, who was already turning on the oil lamps used by the tour guides.

Hannah’s bedroom door slammed shut in Dean’s face and no matter how hard he tried, he could not get it open again. He felt a hand on his shoulder and whirled around, surprised to see Charlie standing there, gritting her teeth through the nerves.

“What can I do to help?” she asked and Dean rested his head against the back of the door as they heard Castiel weeping Hannah’s tears, the sound gut-wrenching and leaving him feeling hopeless. He slid down the door, resting his arms on his knees and hanging his head.

“I don’t know,” he whispered as the wails of desolation continued.

  
  



	18. Bring him back

It was like being underwater. Castiel felt as though he were drowning in his own mind, unseen hands pushing him down as he struggled to surface. She was strong. Stronger than he had given her credit for. He should have known, from the way Dean had behaved when leaving the house. The air of sadness surrounding him had been palpable.

This was grief, and he was buried under it. Castiel was no stranger to grief, his parents and Balthazar had made sure of that. But this… this was worse. It was like half of his soul had been ripped from his chest, leaving an open, gaping wound that never eased. It only pulsed steady, hemorrhaging what was left of sanity. He tried to fight through it, knowing it was not his pain, but feeling it as though it was.

She had lost her soulmate and never recovered. One quick month was all it took for her to waste away to nothing. Until her cheeks became sallow and her body grew brittle and dry, crying out every last drop of water housed in her cells. Castiel had wanted to help her. It had been his intention from the very first moment that he had seen her in the window.

First, he’d spoken to Lucy. Forever six and thinking only of playing and keeping her sister company. He’d tried to get her to leave. Lucy, he knew, had seen the light after she died, the big luminescent beacon that called the spirits to wherever home was after death.  But she hadn’t left then, too afraid to go beyond, by herself. She stayed, waiting for someone to come with her, and time ceased to have meaning as she continued to laugh and play and interact with whoever was open enough in mind and spirit to see her. When Hannah came, it was as though no time had passed at all. Lucy thought they would leave together, but when Lucy told Hannah, the older sister became furious, refusing to leave without her Ansel.

She had whispered this to Castiel as he had watched from outside, letting him see the pictures in her mind when he allowed her in. The joy she had felt at holding a teddy bear for the first time in centuries was momentarily shocking to the girl. It seemed to bring back some of her lucidity and Castiel ached for her when her parent's faces flitted through her mind. He tried to tell her she could go to them, that they would be waiting for her, were probably wondering why they had made it to the heaven first. 

_ Not without Hannah _ had been the response. Hannah, who’s despair coated the home like an oil slick, getting into every pore and making it impossible to not breathe raggedly. Every inhale was a burn in the lungs, every exhale like jagged glass. Hannah, whom he thought could help, if he could just explain that she could move on, that Ansel was waiting for her, that her grief kept him hidden, just outside her peripheral. That what she saw as tortuous memories were truly her love begging her to join him. If Cas could just get through to her.

Inviting her in, letting her have control had been a mistake on his part, a grave miscalculation, as having his body gave her grief a solid weight. To feel the press of nails into palms as she clenched his fists, to feel the wetness of tears sliding down his cheeks, gave validity to her centuries-old mourning. It brought it all back and gave it new life. 

He did it all wrong. He should have spoken to her and not merged. Castiel could only hope she would wear herself out soon. He felt the door slam under his fingers, but it was light, as though he were merely brushing the wood, no force behind it. Everything was pale and weak, He was but an observer in his own body, feeling much like a ghost himself, where his every attempt at showing himself was no stronger than a soft puff of breath. He wanted to holler, but there was no sound and he was beginning to panic. He tried to focus on Dean, but his voice seemed so far away, starting strong then drifting away like tendrils of smoke rising from a cigarette. He could hear him pleading: “ _ Please, Cas. You gotta come back, man.  Kick her out, you're stronger than this. Damn it, Cas, I… I  just found you!” _  But the words lost cadence, drifting away as a dream did upon waking.

Castiel began to feel exhaustion set in and had no idea if it was him or Hannah. If he could will himself to stay alert, he thought that just maybe he could explain to her that this is not where she belonged. That Ansel and her parents were waiting and that she and Lucy could go.

_ “Cas, I’m so sorry. I should have told you to be careful...fuck, I should have done SOMETHING!,” _ He heard Dean’s voice and his heart stuttered over the anguish in it. He could imagine Dean, forehead against the door, eyes closed as he, of course, found a way to blame himself. His beautiful Dean. Cas had learned the way he smiled, the way he talked, the assured way he moved. How could he not when Dean’s very presence made it impossible to follow anyone else in the room whilst he was in it. But  _ this _ Dean, this petrified, wobegon man, Castiel did  _ not _ know, and his heart bled for him.

_ “Let him go. Please. Please, Hannah, I’m begging you. Bring him back. I need...I... “ D _ ean’s voice was broken and Castiel would have given anything to soothe him.

“He loves you,” Hannah whispered to him, words hoarse from year’s worth of tears. “Even if he doesn’t know it yet.”

“I know,” Castiel whispered back, “I love him too.”

_“ You’re gonna bring him back, okay? You’re gonna bring back Cas, and you’re gonna do it now!_ Dean had moved on from terrified to furious and Castiel felt helpless, wishing to reassure him, to scream out that he was still there. _“You make this right!_ _Right here and right now!”_

“Can you really help me?” Hannah’s voice was small but Castiel could detect the slightest hint of hope and for the first time in however long he’d been locked in his mind, he breathed without pain.

“Yes, I can really help you.  But you need to let me go,” Castiel felt himself slide down the wall, felt his knees draw up and his arms wrap around them.

“I don’t know how. I don’t know how to let go. Ansel...Ansel was my everything. We were supposed to be married and raise a family and it was stolen from us. Why would God  _ do _ that? Why were we punished?” Hannah's voice trembled in his mind, laced with confusion and torment.

Castiel sighed, “Oh, you poor child. You weren’t being punished. It was nature. A tragic act of nature that claimed many lives. But you have to let go of this pain. You clutch it to yourself like a blanket, you wear it like a second skin and you’ll never find Ansel if all you see is darkness.”

“Can you see Ansel? Truly? “

“Hannah, he’s been here, all along, just waiting. Your grief has kept him hidden. You have to let it go. Let it blow over like a storm and see the brightness left behind. Open your eyes and see.  Lucy?” Castiel called.

Lucy appeared and walked up to Castiel and crouched down, getting eye level with him on the floor. She searched his face, little hands smooth and cool caressing his cheeks. “Come on, Hannah,” she said, smiling gently into Cas’ face. “Come out, come out wherever you are,” she teased and Castiel heard a soft giggle leave his mouth as Hannah began to loosen her hold on him.

Feeling returned to his limbs, though they were shaking like leaves in a windstorm. When he regained full control he gasped harshly, coming up on his knees as though pulled by strings. He arched his back, his mouth still open on the exhale, eyes wide as bright blue light seemed to shoot out of him, leaving his body like the grace of an angel.

_ “Cas! Castiel! _ ,” he heard Dean screaming from the other side of the door, no doubt alarmed by the light show exploding through every crack of the wood and under the door.

Castiel sank back down as the last of the energy expelled from him. When his eyes could focus it was to the sight of Hannah being embraced by Ansel, and little Lucy hugging her from behind. Hannah’s hands were fisted in Ansel’s dark blonde hair as he peered at Castiel over her shoulder, eyes sheened with tears as he mouthed _thank_ _you_.

“I mean it, Sam! You get me a fucking sledgehammer, a flamethrower, I don’t care, but I am busting this door down. I don’t care how strong this ghost is or what tricks it’s using to keep it shut, but last time I checked wood was no match for fire!” Dean’s voice broke through Cas’ lethargy and he fought to bring himself to his feet, reaching for the window sill and pulling himself up. 

The air was clear and still, and Castiel was alone. There would be no more ghostly sightings at the _Howland_ _House_. He stumbled over to the door where he heard Gabriel telling Sam to help him find something to bust down the door. Castiel fumbled with the doorknob, knees shaking as he tried to hold himself, nearly falling backward as he pulled the door open. He blinked owlishly at Dean, who stood there in the hallway bathed in the light of the oil lamp.

Dean’s face was pale, his freckles accentuated by his pallor, and his wide, moss green eyes flitted over his face as he breathed out, “Cas,” before they came together in a messy kiss. Dean swept his tongue into Castiel’s mouth like he was starving, lips slotting together, slick and open. Cas melted as Dean’s usual finesse was gone in the relief of them coming together. Cas was faring no better as he sucked on Dean’s tongue, slow and reckless. The kiss was sloppy and deep and cleansed like a swift summer storm and when they finally needed to breathe, they broke apart.

Dean’s eyes were glassy, glittering with emotion as he yelled, “Never do that again!”

Castiel sagged into him, eyes fluttering as his head lolled back. He vaguely felt himself being lifted in a bridal carry. He breathed in leather and sandalwood, sighing, and managed to say a quiet, “Alright,” before passing out.

* * *

 

 

When Castiel next woke, he found himself laying on top of a double bed, lights on low, tv playing softly.  It was dark, and a glance at the alarm clock on the hotel nightstand said 1:33 in red digital numbers. He turned on his side, propping himself up by his elbow and looked around the room, eyes gritty and burning slightly. Dean sat at the table by the window, bowed legs extended and resting on the second chair as he murmured quietly into his cell phone.  His stubbled face was bathed in moonlight, and illuminated by the flickering of the television. Castiel took a moment to study him unobserved.

“Yeah,” Dean was saying, “he’s been out cold for the past two hours. Everything okay there? Kevin doing alright? He looked ready to wet his pants when I came downstairs carrying Cas,” a soft chuckle then, “Thank you, Gabriel, for sharing with Sam. I know he’s your brother but I… I don’t think I could handle not being in the same room with him right now.  Yeah, you too, I’ll keep you updated. Oh, hey, hey, sleep by a window. You saw what Sammy had for dinner, it’s for your own safety.”

Castiel found himself huffing out a laugh and Dean’s eyes were on him in a flash as he rose fluidly to come kneel by his side of the bed. He brushed a hand through Cas’ hair, trailing his fingers down his face and cupping his cheek. Cas leaned into the touch, loving the feeling of Dean’s callused palm warm against his skin.

“Welcome back, Sunshine, how you doin'?” Dean asked, anxiously, “Can I get you anything? You want something to drink? Water, tea? You name it, I’ll go get it for you.”

Castiel’s lips tugged up in a fond smile, “Thank you, Dean.”

“Don’t thank me, tell me what you need,” he said, thumb brushing Cas’ cheekbone, the rasp of his own stubble audible.

Castiel wrapped his fingers around Dean’s wrist, squeezing at the pulse point. “I’m sorry I frightened you,” he murmured, eyes searching Dean’s as the man blew out a breath and lowered his forehead to the bed.

“You did. You really, really did. That can’t happen again, Cas. I mean it,” his voice was muffled against the sheets.

“I thought I could handle it. I let her have control, but then it was like I was swamped with all of it, her pain, her anger, and desolation. It helped, having you there.”

Dean looked up at him, eyes incredulous. “In what way? I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t get through to you, fuck, I couldn’t even open a Goddamn door!”

Castiel sat up straighter, pushing himself back against the headboard. “You did more than you know.  It may not have seemed that I could hear, but I could. Your voice… it was distant, but there. You helped ground me, and kept me from completely drowning under everything else.”

Dean swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he processed Cas’ words. “How’d you break free?”

“She let me go,” Castiel said and Dean’s brows winged up in surprise.  “It was like being in my body made everything fresh for her, being able to feel everything with all her senses again, it was overwhelming. Once she’d run out of tears she became so tired, just down to the bone. Once she was in that state, she was able to listen to what I had to say.”

“And… and she’s gone now?”

Castiel smiled, peacefully. “She is. Gone with her sister and her love, to wherever their heaven is.”

Dean sighed and it sounded relieved. He pushed up and pressed a soft kiss to Cas’ forehead. “I’m gonna run out, get you a tea from the that twenty-four Dunkin Donuts across the street-”

“Vanilla chai, please,” He interrupted with a grin.

“Vanilla chai it is. Why don’t you call Gabriel while I’m gone? I think he feels bad, he kind of froze when everything went down. I think you really freaked him out.”

“ I will,” Castiel said smiling as Dean gave him one more kiss before walking out of the room. Castiel swung his legs to the edge of the bed, flexing his toes in the beige carpet. A glance at the tv showed a Dr. Sexy M.D. marathon and he forced himself to get up and use the bathroom before getting sucked into Dr. Piccolo's drama.  Cas went into the bathroom, touched to find all of his toiletries neatly arranged on the counter. He brushed his teeth, noticing for the first time that he was down to his boxers and undershirt, and it hit him just how out of it he must have been to not be aware that Dean was undressing him. Castiel went to his trenchcoat to fish out the bowl and baggie he put in there for after his investigation. He sat at the table and broke apart a bud, packing the bowl full, thinking that Dean might join him this time. 

He picked up his cell phone off of the table and dialed his brother. Gabriel picked up before the first ring was finished.

“Cassie, you okay?”

“I’m fine, Gabriel. Dean has taken very good care of me,” he said and it was a testament to how scared his brother must have been, that he did not launch into a slew of bad sexual innuendos.

“I’m so sorry, little brother,” Gabriel said, voice tired and full of contrition.

Castiel lit his bowl and took a deep inhale, holding it in a few beats before exhaling on a “Why?”

 

“What do you mean, why? I did _nothing_. I’m supposed to be this seasoned Ghost Hunter and when my baby brother gets hijacked by _Pilgrim_ _Polly_ , I do nothing!”

“Gabriel, what could you have done? No, seriously?” he asked when his brother only let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m the one who invited her in, how the hell were you supposed to know how to handle it?”

“ I don’t know. I’m just grateful Dean was there. He chased after you, snapped some orders, told us to get the lights on, kept talking to you through the door.”

“Yes, I remember him barking at Sam to get a ...what was it...flamethrower?” Cas said, amused, and smiling at the man himself when Dean entered the room carrying a brown paper bag and two large cups, one with a tea bag hanging from the side. Dean saw his spread on the table and rolled his eyes, without heat, cracking open the window by the table.

“Yeah, well lucky it didn’t come to that, though you fainting scared the fucking shit out of me,” Gabe said seriously and Cas hummed around a mouthful of vanilla chai.

“I’m sure,” Cas said shaking his head at Dean as he opened the brown paper bag, placing a coffee roll the size of his head on a napkin in front of him.

“You need the sugar,” he murmured quietly, and Cas smiled fondly at him.

“Gabriel, Dean is trying to ply me with a fuckton of glazed sugar right now, “ Castiel said and Dean snickered. “So why don’t you and Sam get some sleep and we can meet up for brunch  later in the morning?”

As Cas hung up the phone with his brother, Dean pulled out a donut for himself, taking a generous bite and coating his lips with powdered sugar that made Cas want to kiss it off of him.  Instead, he laughed and threw him a napkin.

“I know you probably think I should be embarrassed by all of this,” Dean deadpanned, gesturing to his face, “but I’m not. Breakfast is a messy business sometimes,” he said before taking another huge bite. “Eat your coffee roll, then you can finish your bowl.”

“Shouldn’t I smoke first, I’ll just get hungry afterward,” Castiel teased and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Eat half then, I’m serious. Your blood sugar is probably really low and here,” Dean reached behind himself to go into the cooler, “chug some water along with that tea.”

Castiel cracked open the bottle and drank half of it down, then took a bite of his pastry. He nudged the bowl over to Dean as he continued to eat, hiding a triumphant smile when Dean shrugged and picked it up to take a hit. Castiel was expecting at least a little coughing jag, but instead, Dean inhaled smoothly, blowing the fragrant smoke out towards the cracked open window. Cas ate without conscious thought as he watched Dean bring the bowl to his plush pink lips again, following the line of smoke as it left his mouth and curled above his head. Before he knew it, the whole roll was gone and it was Dean’s turn to smile triumphantly.

“You should go back to bed, Dean, I’m sure you’re exhausted, “ Castiel said, taking the bowl back from him and taking a long hit.

“I'll go when you go,” Dean said with a wink as Cas exhaled. He’d have to ask Lily to get him this strain again, as he was already feeling pleasantly relaxed. He took one more toke, offering it again to Dean who shook his head no.

“You really want to cuddle with me, huh?” Castiel grated out, voice even deeper than usual from holding in the smoke. Instead of teasing back Dean reached out and laced their fingers.

“Yeah. Yeah, Cas, I really do,” he said, standing up and pulling Castiel with him towards the bed. Dean reached down to pull his tee shirt up and over his head, but Cas stopped him.

“Let me,” he whispered, and Dean looked at him with wide green pools, questioning. Cas answered with sure hands, making quick work of Dean’s shirt.  Cas found it sweet that Dean wanted to let him take the lead, and he grinned at him as he removed his own shirt and tossed it on the floor. His deft fingers reached out and undid Dean’s belt in quick succession, pulling it out, the sound of leather sliding through the loops loud in the room, quiet aside from the low background noise of the television. As Castiel tugged at his jeans, Dean cradled Cas’ face in his palms.

“You sure?” he asked quietly and Cas answered by pushing Dean’s jeans and boxers down in one go, past his thighs before shoving his own boxers down, kicking them off of his socked feet, which he toed off next. “I guess that’s a yes,” Dean huffed nervously, eyes darting between them. Cas found himself looking down too, noticing that even soft, they were about the same length, though Dean was a little thicker. “I didn’t, uh… I didn’t bring anything...I wasn’t counting on-” Cas stopped the anxious flow of words with a finger to Dean’s lips, which his eyes followed adorably.  Castiel strode nude to his bag, feeling calm, arousal a slow simmer, as he dug inside for lube and a condom and placing them on the table.

“I’m clean. I haven’t been with anyone since Ishim,” Castiel said, climbing onto the bed, reclining back on his forearms.

Dean finished stripping off his clothes, a pretty flush extending from his cheeks down his bare chest.  “I get tested every six months and I haven’t been with anyone since the last time, so I’m clean too, but... but if you’d still rather…” he trailed off, gesturing towards the foil packet.

“I’d rather you climb up here with me, “ Cas said, arching a regal brow, “work me open nice and slow, and take me apart,” Castiel’s words belied confidence, but the way his voice shook showed he was just as affected as the gorgeous man before him. 

Dean seemed to need no further invitation as he crawled on the bed, straddling Cas and leaning down to take his mouth in a deep kiss, tongue delving inside, exploring thoroughly. Dean tasted of coffee and sugar and Cas groaned into the kiss, relishing in the flavor and feeling of his tongue undulating against Dean’s, the sound wet and slick. Dean’s fingers caught in Cas hair, tugging,

the sharp sensation going straight to his dick where it lay against his belly. Cas could feel himself beginning to plump and blindly reached out, dragging his long fingers down Dean’s chest, over his nipples and tweaking them until they stood in stiff peaks. Dean moaned into Cas’ mouth, scratching his own nails down, before breaking apart to trail a hot blaze of open-mouthed kisses down Cas’ throat. Dean licked at Cas’ Adam’s apple, sucking for a moment before nipping at his collarbone. Dean was setting little fires all over his skin and Castiel couldn’t stop the soft hums of pleasure escaping his throat.

 

Dean slid further down Cas’ body, straddling his thighs now as his mouth nipped and sucked, pausing at the dark freckle by his right nipple, showing it love and attention as Dean’s hands settled at Cas’ hips, massaging sharp hip bones.  Dean’s mouth seemed to be everywhere at once, laving a nipple, kissing his belly button, leaving love bites across his ribs. Cas’ stomach fluttered at the attention, his whole body alive with awareness. Still, Dean went lower, firm chest dragging against the wet head of Cas’ cock as it lay hard against his belly, flushed a pinkish purple at the tip and dripping. Dean nosed Cas’ pubic bone, looking up at him, almost coy from under long honey lashes. Dean kept his gaze on Cas, who was panting softly, drinking in the site of the man he’d been in love with for so long, worshipping his body as if it were what he was born to do. When Dean scooted down further, then licked a hot, wet stripe over Cas’ cock he moaned deep and long. 

“Cas?” Dean questioned, voice raspy and deep, “may I lick you?” 

For a moment Castiel was confused, and then Dean urged Cas’ legs up, spreading his thighs, leaning in to suck at the soft skin there before pulling back and looking up at him expectantly. Cas’ breath caught as he hooked his knees over his arms in answer, pulling them to his chest and exposing his dusky hole to the man between his legs.

“Fuck,” Dean murmured, eyes glossed over with desire. The sight of him so obviously taken with the view made Cas’ cock leak and feeling bold, he reached down, spreading his cheeks further and Dean let out a filthy groan. “God, how are you real,” he said, as he reached out and traced Cas’ pucker gently. Cas felt himself shiver at the touch, limbs trembling at the barely there brush of fingers. Dean adjusted himself on his knees, his own cock jutting forward, spongy tip shiny and pink, making Cas lick his lips.

Dean massaged Cas’ thighs and leaned in, swirling his tongue over his hole, lapping at the tight, wrinkled ring of muscle. He brought his hands down to spread Cas’ ass further, fitting his mouth over his entrance and giving a long suck that had him whimpering and fluttering against Dean’s tongue. Cas heard the snick of the lube bottle and soon felt a gentle finger rubbing at his furled pucker, slowly pushing the digit inside. Castiel clenched reflexively around Dean’s finger, and he kept his movements slow, sliding in and out until Cas was loose enough to take another. Cas’ arms stretched above his head as his lower body moved of its own accord, bearing down on Dean’s fingers, enjoying the stretch, relishing the burn as Dean scissored him open. Cas let out a gasp when Dean’s tongue joined in, licking into his hole in darting jabs and long sucks, swirling against his walls, tonguing his rosette deeply. Dean thumbed Cas open, and the site of his burnt honey hair between his thighs coupled with the plunging of his wicked tongue had a cacophony of guttural groans falling from Castiel’s lips.

“ _ Ungh, ungh, unghhh, oh, fuck _ …” he mindlessly babbled, grinding against Dean’s face and knowing he would have stubble burn the next day and not giving a single fuck. Castiel allowed himself to look down and his cock twitched, oozing pre-come at the sight of Dean, looking wrecked with lust-glazed eyes and a glistening chin. Dean continued to work Cas open until he was four fingers deep and Castiel rode his hand, feet pressed into the mattress for leverage. When Dean crooked his fingers the right way, brushing against Cas’ prostate he jackknifed, impaling himself further and hissing out a slew of profanities.

“Fuck, you’re stunning,” Dean said with wonder, as he watched his fingers disappear in and out of Cas’ hot channel, the words said so matter of factly that Castiel would have blushed if his whole body wasn’t flushed pink already. If he wasn’t a panting, gasping mess of sensation. Castiel knew Dean had to be aching, hands having not left Cas’ body once to touch himself. “Your rim is all slick and puffy,” Dean said as he  leaned down and licked around the muscle, “pink and clenching around my fingers,” he pulled his them free, the obscene squelching sound making Cas’ cock leak, a puddle now pooling at the head of his dick on his stomach.

Castiel could feel his pucker fluttering, wanting,  _ needing _ Dean’s cock to fill him. “I’m ready, Dean, please. I can’t-  _ ah, ah, ah, _ ” he arched and grunted as Dean rubbed against his sweet spot again, “ I’m going to come, I’m gonna come if you don’t-” Cas sighed as Dean pulled his fingers out again, watched as he slicked his cock up with his hand, wet from Cas’ lube-stretched hole and had to grip his dick to keep from coming just watching him. Dean, he saw, clenched his jaw as he tugged his cock a few times, making sure it was good and slippery before he nudged the head at Cas entrance.

They both sighed in relief when Dean slid home, bottoming out with one thrust, and Dean pressed his forehead to Cas’. Castiel looked into Dean’s eyes, hands sliding up his sweat-dampened skin to scratch at his neck and fist in his hair. He felt the words on the tip of his tongue and his mind kept screaming,  _ too soon, don’t scare him off _ , but he needn’t have worried, not as Dean looked at him as though he were the most important thing in his universe, as though galaxies were being born in his eyes.  Not when Dean was bracketing Cas’ head, breath coming in short puffs as he stuttered out “I love you, Castiel.  _ God _ , do I love you,” before burying his face in the crook of Cas neck and rocking into him, slow and steady. 

Cas raised his legs to wrap around Dean’s waist, heart full to bursting and tears sliding down as they moved, feeling more connected to Dean than he had to anyone or anything in his life. Cas’ cock was throbbing between them, hard and wet with precome, and when Dean’s hot breath hit the shell of his ear and he bit down on Cas lobe, he arched and crested, come pulsing from his cock in thick bursts for what seemed like forever. His body was locked tight and he heard Dean groan, deep, long, and loud against his skin as Cas clenched hard around him, milking Dean’s orgasm out of him, as the hot, wet release coated his inner walls. Dean’s body was like one big livewire trembling against him, and Castiel gasped for air as he shuddered with aftershocks. He brought shaking hands to Dean’s face, pulling the man towards him and kissing him, a hard press of lips, salty and sticky with sweat.

“I love you, too, Dean,” he whispered, earnestly, dragging him down again to lick into his mouth, sucking on his tongue and ending with a little nip to his full, bottom lip. “I love you, too.”


	19. B Squad

Things were quiet the next day. Despite sleeping until ten, Dean’s limbs still felt heavy, but at least the churning fear was gone, replaced with a peace only found by waking up wrapped around the one you love.

 _Love_.

So that was out there now. On both of their parts. Dean hadn’t meant to say it so soon, but trying to keep it inside after everything that had happened was the equivalent of trying to build a house out of paper in a tornado. There was no chance of keeping his walls up, not even the whisper of a prayer to keep his feelings bound inside of him, not with his emotions swirling through his body like a whirlwind. No, they had escaped, gasped on an exhale of euphoria, and he couldn’t take them back. He wouldn’t even if he could, because though it was frightening, it was also freeing in a way he had never felt before. This kind of love… it was so different from the familial love he had for Sam, Bobby, and Ellie. It was more than the nurturing feelings he had for Ben, more than the big brother sentimentality he had with Charlie and Kevin. With Castiel, he felt all of those core feelings, as well as passion, possessiveness, warmth… the desire to safeguard and protect and an ardent need to see him happy.

Dean couldn’t stop the sappy grin from stealing across his face as he watched Castiel stretch and sigh as he stirred.  The man rolled onto his side, facing Dean, his cerulean blue eyes blinking open, skin crinkling at the corners as his lips tugged up, joy alight in his face. When Castiel smiled, it was like an event; like sunshine breaking through darkened clouds or a rainbow just after a summer storm, showing off his teeth and gums adorably. It was contagious, easily tugging at Dean’s heart as they surveyed each other in the late morning light streaming through the blinds.

“Good morning, Dean,” Cas’ voice grumbled out, low and gravely, sending a shiver of banked lust down his spine.

“That’s some voice, you know?” Dean said seriously in lieu of response and Castiel smiled even brighter.

“Yes, I’ve been told. More frighteningly by my brother who insists I should moonlight as a sex phone operator.”

Dean chuckled, gliding his hand down Cas’ arm until they were palm to palm and laced their fingers. “Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather keep your post sex-morning voice to myself, please.”

“I don’t have a problem with that,” Castiel whispered, scooting closer to press a soft kiss on Dean’s lips.  Dean hummed in response, catching Cas’ full pink bottom lip between his teeth, biting lightly.

“Should we talk about last night?” Dean asked as Castiel gave him a smile that held heart-deep affection.

“Do you think we need to? “

“I think so, yeah. Just so we’re on the same page,”  Dean said, heart stuttering a bit at the warmth radiating from Cas’ azure gaze. He didn’t look nervous at all, which Dean was slightly jealous of. Cas had a way of looking at him as if he already knew the secret. Like he could read Dean’s mind and was just patiently waiting for him to confirm his thoughts with words.

Maybe he could.

“It’s just,” Dean continued, “I need you to know that I don’t say that lightly. I love you, I mean. Truth is, aside from family, I’ve _never_ said it,” he blew out a shaky breath and then laughing when in a quick, nimble motion, he found his lap full of hard muscle and six feet of gorgeous.

Castiel wrapped his legs around Dean’s back as he settled, comfortable and naked, gripping Dean’s face as he pressed a firm kiss to his lips.

“Thank you,” Cas murmured, voice husky with emotion. “Thank you for trusting me with your heart, Dean. I shall endeavor to guard it fervently.”

“I love it when you go all thesaurus-Cas on me,” Dean teased, swallowing past the lump in his throat and aiming for playful.

Castiel shifted forward and licked a stripe along the side of Dean’s neck, the slip and slide of the lower half of their bodies against each other kicking up a tempest in Dean’s heart. Castiel moved against him so assuredly, confident in his movements all while Dean was a trembling mess of nerves. He could feel Cas grinning against the skin of his collarbone as he shifted again, cocks brushing against each other sending little shocks of pleasure throughout his body.

Castiel lifted his head from the crook of Dean’s neck, looking at him from under long lashes and arched a brow that had _safe_ _words_ and _collars_ dancing through his mind.  “In that case, would you perchance like to indulge me in a bout of morning frottage?”

Dean threw his head back, laughing. “Is it still frottage if we’re naked?”

Cas shrugged, “Do you care?”

Dean shook his head, “Not really, no,” he said on a sigh as Cas began to undulate his hips, grinding softly against him.

“Good,” he said winding his arms around Dean’ neck as they moved in gentle figure eights. “Dean?” Castiel said softly as they began to plump against each other. “I don’t say it often either,” for the first time that morning Castiel sounded vulnerable and Dean rested his forehead against his, eyes searching deep blue depths and aching to reassure them.

“I promise to keep yours safe, too, Cas,” Dean whispered and groaned when Castiel surged forward to kiss him deeply. Kissing Castiel was always a revelation. It was like fireworks, and not just loud bangs and bright bursts, but the ones that streaked right up through the sky and trailed down in streams of silver and gold that shimmered and sizzled.

They moved against each other sinuously, hands sliding down sweat-slickened skin, gripping and kneading each other as they reached completion, swallowing each other’s gasps of air. Castiel laid his head on Dean’s shoulder as the mix of their come cooled between them.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Hmm?”

“Good talk,” Dean said making them both shake with laughter.

* * *

  
  
Needless to say, instead of a late breakfast, they wound up meeting the rest of the team for lunch, Gabriel grumbling the whole time as they were seated at a large booth in the back of the restaurant.

“I really wanted pancakes,” the older Novak pouted and Castiel rolled his eyes.

“Gabriel, we’re at a _Denny’s_. They serve breakfast all day long, so please stop your complaining,” Castiel said as he slid in the booth after Dean, smiling at the warm weight of his arm as it laid across his shoulders. Cas relaxed into Dean, loose-limbed, and relished in how his heart felt so full and his body deliciously sated.

“Yeah, but it’s not the same. If I order them now, they’ll be B-squad pancakes. I wanted A-squad pancakes.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Cas said, elbowing Dean when he snickered.

“What do you feel like, sunshine?” Dean asked him. “Their B-squad french toast is phenomenal,” he said with a wink. Castiel tried not to melt at the open affection that came from Dean so naturally.

“Shut up, Dean, this is your fault anyway,” Gabriel griped.

“Oh yeah?” Dean asked, looking up at Gabriel as he filled Cas’ cup of coffee from the carafe on the table before filling his own.

“Don’t think I don’t know you were defiling my brother,” Gabriel said and Castiel choked on his coffee. He looked at Dean, relieved to see he didn’t look perturbed at all. In fact, he only seemed to smile brighter, humor dancing over his handsome features.

“Pretty sure we defiled each other,” Dean said with a wink, high-fiving Charlie across the table and making Sam groan in a way that only embarrassed little brothers could pull off.

“Gross, Dean,” Kevin said, and Castiel shook his head in amused disapproval.

“As much fun as discussing my and Dean’s sex life is, perhaps we should talk about the game plan for the rest of the day?” Castiel said, choosing not to look up from the menu as he debated between Dean’s B-squad french toast and a turkey club sandwich.

After they ordered it was decided that they would do a daytime walk through of _Burial_ _Hill_ so Dean could decide where he wanted the trap cameras' placements to be. Although what had transpired the night before probably meant that any lingering Howland spirits would be gone, that didn't mean there weren’t others; lost souls from the _General_ _Arnold_ languishing about in the cemetery.

Castiel was still feeling a little drained so he was grateful that Dean would not need to stay beyond set-up, leaving the 4 am breakdown in Charlie and Kevin’s capable hands. Sam and Gabriel would only be conducting a short EVP session leaving most of the work to cameras.  The rest of the crew would stay another night in town, sleeping most of the day before driving back home to go over all of the evidence to report back to the client and edit for their web series.

While they ate, Cas and Dean shared syrup-sticky kisses that had Gabriel kicking Dean’s shin under the table, but Castiel was relieved to see that it was done playfully.  Gabriel’s soft smiles at the pair when he thought Cas wasn’t looking gave him away. When everyone was finished his brother paid the bill, though Dean insisted on leaving the tip, and they headed out to _Burial_ _Hill_.

It really was beautiful, with a gorgeous view overlooking the town, the churches, and the ocean. It was also very loud, filled with spirits, many of them lost. Castiel felt himself drowning in sensation, ranging from shock, cold, fear and sadness. Dean, of course, noticed right away, hastily pushing his notebook and pen into Charlie’s hand and coming to his side.

“A little too much right now, sweetheart?” Dean asked, concerned and Cas nodded begrudgingly.

“Yes. I’m sorry," he said, frustrated, "I want to come back here, to talk to them. In a few days," Cas felt pained saying it, not wanting to leave when he could help them. "I’ll just go and wait by the bottom of the steps.”

“No, that’s crazy. Here,” Dean fished his keys out of his pocket. “Are you okay to drive? If not, I’ll run you back to the hotel.”

“You don’t have to do that, Dean,” Castiel said, taking the offered car keys. “I’m not lightheaded or anything. But I might be if I stay.”

Dean pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Alright, you go back to the room, relax. I’ll have one of these guys drive me back and then we can head home, okay?”

“Alright, but haven’t we checked out already? I can just lay in the back of the car,” Cas insisted, not wanting to be too much trouble but Dean just laughed.

“Right. In the hot sun on leather seats with no air conditioning? Fuck that. Hey Gabriel?” Dean called and it was at that moment that Castiel noticed the rest of the team just standing there all staring at him with varying looks of shock on their faces.  “Give Cas your room key, he needs to go lay down.” Castiel watched as Gabriel wordlessly reached into his pocket and tossed Dean his key card which he promptly placed in Cas’ hand.

“Dean,” Cas muttered under the corner of his mouth, “why are they all staring at us like that?”

Dean turned to survey their audience and raised his brows. “What?”

“You’re letting him drive the Impala?” Sam finally broke the quiet and Dean shrugged.

“Yeah, so?”

“Yeah, so?” Sam repeated. “Yeah, so? So, I’m your brother and you won’t even let me drive two minutes from the house to the 7/11!” There was a charged silence and then Sam’s eyes widened. “Oh my God!”

“What?” Dean asked, defensively this time and Castiel watched as a wide smile stole across Sam’s face.

“Nothing,” the taller man said, laughing. “Forget I asked. Have a good rest, Cas,” Sam said and Castiel nodded.

“Thank you, Sam,” Cas said, feeling like he was missing something obvious, but honestly too sad and tired to care enough to dig deeper. Instead, he kissed Dean goodbye.

"Don't punish yourself, Cas," Dean said when their lips parted. "A few more days isn't going to make a difference in the scheme of things and your body needs rest."

"You know, you are pretty intuitive, Mr. Winchester," Cas said, cocking his head and studying the green eyes flecked with gold staring so earnestly back at him.

"Naw, Cas. You're just very... expressive."

Castiel's eyes winged up in surprise.  _Expressive_? Castiel had been called many things; _stoic, sarcastic, aloof, quiet, odd,_ but never  _expressive_. He found the fact that Dean could see something in him that no one else could was startling, but exhilarating as well. Castiel wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and tugged him down for another kiss, lingering on the taste of syrup, coffee, and _Dean_.

Giggles coming from some of the daytime tourists finally penetrated through their bubble and Cas broke away from Dean with a satisfied sigh, then headed down the stairs. He thought he heard a loud _Shut_ _it,_ _Sammy_ as he began walking across the parking lot and chuckled. When he reached the Impala, Castiel opened the door, inhaling the ever-present leather and sandalwood scent of Dean as he slid in behind the wheel. He started the engine and headed back to the hotel to rest and wait for his love.

  
  
  



	20. I Grieve

“Hey, Max, can you turn that up?” Dean called as he used the jack to lift up the Dodge Charger he was working on.

“Since when do you listen to modern music, old man?” the young mechanic teased as he turned up the volume on _WCOD_.

Dean barked out a laugh. “Since my stupidly hot boyfriend is a _Top 40_ addict and the fucking shit gets stuck in my head. Do you think I _willingly_ know who Adam Levine is?”

“I’d willingly know everything I could about that delicious specimen if I could,” Max said with a wink and Dean chuckled.

“I’m sure your boyfriend would love that,” Dean said dryly, but Max only smirked.

“Please, the more the merrier,” Max said laughingly and Dean just shook his head as went to the workbench to grab the pinch weld adapter. The Charger was beautiful but the area where he needed to put the jack was very small and normal jack plates just didn’t fit.

“We are meeting up at the Roadhouse tonight, pool tournament,” Max called over the chorus of _Sugar! Yes, please!_ that Dean was most definitely _not_ bobbing his head too. “You coming? You could bring that fine ass man of yours.”

Dean laughed as he took off the Charger’s flashguard. “Thanks, man, but Cas and I have plans,” he said, trying to ignore the nervous little flutter in his stomach.

It had been two months since the _Howland_ _House_ case. As per Cas’ wishes, they had driven back up a few days after the case had ended so Castiel could do what he could for the spirits of _Burial_ _Hill_. Despite the initial bombardment of emotions, Cas had been relieved to find that the majority of the activity at the cemetery was residual, and there really wasn’t anything for Cas to do. It was really just an imprint, no one intelligent that he could find aside from Captain Magee. Although he had survived the tragedy of the _General_ _Arnold_ and gone on to be a successful sea merchant, when he died in 1801, he was buried per his request in the mass grave at _Burial_ _Hill_. Castiel had told Dean that the Captain appeared to be quite content to spend eternity overlooking the sea and keeping watch of his fallen men.

“Oh, yeah? You gonna _Netflix_ _and_ _chill_?” Max teased, shaking Dean from his musings, and he grunted as he removed the plug to drain the oil.

“What are you, fifteen? “ Dean said as he removed the old filter.

“Don’t be jealous of my youth and beauty, Dean. If I wanted a Daddy, I’d totally hit you up.”

“Shut up, asshat and hand me that new filter,” Dean said, voice infused with laughter. He wished he and Cas had plans to _Netflix and Chill_ but instead of the dinners and movie nights that ended in sexy times that they had been having at Dean’s the past few months, this time he was finally biting the bullet and having Cas give him that reading he had asked for. It was now or never and he knew there were things that Cas fought hard not to bring up whenever he was over at Dean’s house. He wanted Cas to feel comfortable in his home, as they tended to spend a lot of time there. That was mostly Dean’s fault. Looking after Sammy was a hard habit to break. Not to mention it kind of weirded him out, the thought of Cas’ big brother hanging around the beach house whenever they were intimate. Giving a ghost front row seating to Dean riding Cas’ cock like it was his job was not one of Dean’s kinks.

Dean pushed all thoughts of sex, Cas, and his perfect dick, out of his mind as he finished up the oil change and removed the jack. Daydreaming like that while working on heavy machinery was what go you injured.

“Hey, boy, you ‘bout done with that Charger?” Came Bobby’s gruff voice from the doorway of the office.

“Just finished her, Bobby,” Dean said, scrubbing his hands with some _Fast_ _Orange_ in the garage’s sink and drying them off with a rag.

“Good, get outta here and go see your boy. Thanks for coming in on a Saturday, I know you probably canceled a shoot for me,” Bobby said, managing to sound both grateful and chastising at the same time. Not that he was wrong, but the Collins-Ackles family was happy to reschedule anyway.

“It was no problem, really,” Dean said as he waved bye to Max who was changing tires while singing along to Rihanna. Dean was pretty sure the fact that he knew that made him die inside just a little bit.

Dean followed Bobby into the office to grab his keys and his phone, checking his messages.  He had two from Cas; a picture of Salty sleeping closer to the house than he ever had before and another saying he’d see him soon, with a slew of heart emojis because his boyfriend was an adorable dork.

“Good luck with your, you know, reading thing tonight,” Bobby said gruffly and Dean looked at him surprised.

“How’d you know about that?”

“Ellie,” Bobby said, sitting down in the chair behind his scarred metal desk, kicking his feet up.

“How did she know?” Dean asked, confused.

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Please. Your boy and Ellie are always chatting on that damn myface thing.”

Dean laughed, “I think you mean Facebook.”

“Whatever. They’ve been thick as thieves ever since they discovered they both shop at that new-agey herbal shop. I get to hear all about how chai is good for your Chi and how green tea infused with ginger will help align my chakras, whatever the hell those are,” Bobby grumbled without heat and Dean laughed.

"I’m glad they like each other,” Dean said with a smile.

“He’s good for you, kid. It’s nice, seeing you settled, allowing yourself to be happy for once.”

Dean shrugged as though it were the easiest thing in the world and in a way it was. “With him is where I’m meant to be,” he said, simply.

* * *

 

  
Dean was a nervous wreck. He just wanted it over with and berated himself for being a child. Castiel had already reassured him that there would be no channeling, only messages passed. Dean had almost talked himself out of it, making the point to Cas that since he already wholeheartedly believed in his boyfriend’s abilities then there was really no need for Dean to go through with this. Castiel, of course, had said he would support whatever decision Dean made, but that he really did believe that a reading could be integral to healing past hurts, or at least dull the pain a little bit. It was hard to go against anything his overwhelmingly empathetic lover said, especially when his sincerity was splashed all over his beautiful face for Dean to see.

Dean was expecting Castiel soon. He was having a late lunch over at Lily’s before coming over. Lily Sunder, Dean had soon come to realize after getting to know her, was an incredibly strong person, with a quick wit and endless compassion. It amazed Dean how someone who had experienced the loss that she had could be so damn _kind_. She had told him when they were having a quiet moment at a barbecue at Gabriel’s that Castiel was her inspiration. How he hadn’t let all of his losses break him, and how he’d channeled his gift into helping those who needed it desperately out of the goodness of his heart and how all of the money he made was donated amongst different charities as he didn’t need it himself.  Dean had been gobsmacked, as he had never actually discussed the money aspect of what Cas did with the man. Dean had decided that Sam had been correct and it wasn’t any of his business what Cas did with his money and that just because he didn’t need the cash, he indeed had every right to charge for his services. The fact that Castiel chose to further help the unfortunate instead just made Dean fall deeper.

Dean went to the fridge and grabbed a cold bottle of _Yuengling_ , cursing himself for not taking Sam up on his offer to hang out as moral support. At the time he’d been adamant that he needed to do this alone, but the closer and closer the clock drew to 4 pm, the more regretful he was that he’d been so against the idea.

Dean decided to busy himself in the kitchen, preheating the oven to four hundred degrees, grateful for the air conditioner in the hot early August weather. He poked holes in the baking potatoes he had out on the counter along with the London broil he had liberally coated with Montreal steak seasoning to go in the broiler when they were finished with business. He was thinking about throwing the salad together when he heard Cas pull up in Sam’s spot.

Dean opened the front door eagerly, leaning on the jam, watching as Castiel exited the jeep. Dean felt a tug of pure want at the picture before him, and without thinking about it, he quickly grabbed his Nikon off of the coffee table, capturing Castiel in his lense and rapidly firing off a few shots. Cas’ head was tilted up, the wickedest smile on his face as though at the tail end of a dirty joke. His eyes hidden by black aviators, the long line of his throat glinting with a sheen of sweat. The sun teased red out of his dark hair, giving him an amber glow. He took Dean’s breath away.  Castiel’s usual trench coat was missing in the heat, and he wore dark blue jeans and a heather grey tee shirt that hugged his biceps beautifully. In fact, Dean was pretty sure it was one of his and couldn’t help but wonder if Cas had done so to make him more comfortable. To make it clear he wasn’t just a client?

Castiel pulled his sunglasses off, holding them casually by the temple, eyes flashing to meet Dean’s. _Click. Click. Click,_ as Dean caught Castiel’s face transform from impish to enamored, to amorous in quick succession. Cas arched a brow and Dean had to bite back an embarrassing groan as he _clicked_ again. Castiel made quick work of the driveway, long strides eating up the tar as he strode up to Dean. Cas took in Dean’s camera and laughed, then playfully curled his tongue and winged his brow up in what Dean was beginning to think of as Cas’ dom look.

Castiel was starting to get used to Dean’s random photoshoots, though he always tended to look at Dean as though he didn’t know why he felt the need.  It was part of his allure, Dean thought, just how unaware of his desirability Cas seemed to be. As Dean ushered Cas inside, he couldn’t help but notice the lack of Cas’ overnight bag.

“Aren’t we night spending the night together?” Dean asked, and Castiel looked at him quizzically.   

“Yes, why?,” but before Dean could answer Cas seemed to catch on., glancing down at his empty hands. “I just thought we could stay at my house tonight.”

Dean had a split second of reluctance before he schooled his features, but it was still wasn’t quick enough for Castiel not to notice it.

“You got it, sunshine,” Dean said, flashing a brief smile and kissing him chastely.

“Okay, out with it,” Castiel demanded, eyes narrowed as he followed Dean into the kitchen. Dean grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator for Cas, opening the top and handing it to him.

“What?” Dean asked innocently, before taking a swig from his own bottle.

“We never stay at my house. I thought you liked it?” Cas didn’t seem upset, only curious which made Dean feel guiltier.

Dean swung his chair around and straddled it, placing his beer on the table, crossing his arms over the back as he waited for Cas to settle in across from him at the kitchen table.

“Okay, it’s like this. We have sex,” The statement made Castiel widen his impossibly blue eyes. “A lot of sex. Mind-blowing, toe-curling, boisterously loud sex,” Dean said emphatically and Cas conceded with an amused grin.

“That is all delectably true, Dean, but it still doesn’t answer my question,” Cas said, fiddling with the neck of his beer bottle and momentarily distracting Dean’s train of thought until Cas gently nudged him with his foot under the table.

Dean blew out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand awkwardly. “Don’t you think it would make your brother uncomfortable?”

Castiel just stared at him for a moment, face lighting up as he laughed. “Dean, I promise you that Balthazar has no desire whatsoever to linger around the house while we are being intimate. Actually,” Cas cocked his head, eyes narrowed in thought, “I’ve barely spoken with him the past few weeks. Not even on my morning jogs.”

“I have been kind of monopolizing your time a little bit, huh?” Between dinners at Bobby and Ellie’s, fishing with Ben, Movie nights with Sam and Lily, and residential cases with the team, it wasn’t very often that more than two days went by where they didn’t see each other. Dean kept waiting for Cas to need a break; the man had been so solitary before and he was afraid of overwhelming him.

Castiel didn’t seem overwhelmed, though. In fact, he never seemed anything but joyful to be around him when they spent time together.

Cas reached across the table and laced their fingers, rubbing Dean’s knuckles with his thumb. “I’ve been exactly where I have wanted to be,” he said easily.

The oven beeped, letting Dean know he could throw the potatoes in, but he hesitated. “I was gonna throw these in, and broil these steaks,” he said, gesturing to the meat resting on the counter, ”but if we’re going back to your house, I can throw this in a cooler and we can grill’em there?”

“I like that idea. Plus, it’s a nice night for a fire and I may have bought some of that wine we had at that tasting with Lisa and Victor last week and all the supplies for S’mores,” Castiel teased, and if Dean was swamped with the tantalizing vision of marshmallow and chocolate flavored kisses, who could blame him?

“Yes, to all of that,” he said enthusiastically. “So I guess we better get this show on the road, huh?” Dean’s nerves were kicking back up and Cas squeezed his fingers again in support.

“Now, I didn’t bring a recorder because I figured this wasn’t like one of my usual sessions,” Cas began gently, ”and I knew you had one in case I was wrong and you wanted too.”

Dean shook his head. “No, you were right. I don’t need a recorder. Just uh, just do your thing.”

“Okay, so as we discussed, I won’t be channeling because I think talking to you as your dad would just be weird for the both of us,” Cas said and Dean nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. “So instead I will just attempt to pass some messages along. Now sometimes they may be clear, direct to the point references, other times it may just be random words or phrases that mean something to you. It depends on how clearly they are able to express themselves. Sometimes spirits will tell me things just so you have validation that they are really here,” Castiel looked him in the eyes and Dean shook his head, letting him know that he understood.

Castiel began tapping his fingers in little staccato bursts on the table, eyes darting about, before he reached into his back pocket, pulling out a small notebook with a pencil stub poking out of the binding. Dean craned his neck to see what Cas began writing, but he was hunched over the page, obscuring the view. When he looked up again, Cas’ cobalt eyes were peering at him speculatively.

“Do you have your Dad’s journal?” Castiel asked and Dean’s breath hitched, “because he keeps showing me a leather bound journal.”

Dean cleared his throat and nodded. “Uh, yeah, he… uh… he began keeping one right after Mom died.”

Cas chewed on his lip and cocked his head. “He keeps showing me this symbol but…” Cas took his pencil and drew a pentacle engulfed in flames and Dean lost his breath for a moment. Cas held the drawing up. “He keeps showing me this, but you know those _‘no smoking’_ signs or ‘ _No dogs allowed_ ’, how they have the line through it?” Cas scratched his pencil in a diagonal line down the symbol and held it back up to show Dean. “He keeps showing me this and saying _I was wrong._ Does that make sense to you?”

Dean mind reeled a little bit, looking at the picture. “It’s an anti-possession symbol. After my Mom died, Dad… he never really recovered, you know? He started drinking and it was… it was like his brain just snapped. He couldn’t accept the reality that my mom was just taken from us. He started talking about crazy things like demons and possession like he thought some, I don’t know, knight from hell had struck her down instead of a fluke aneurysm that it really was,” Dean huffed out a humorless laugh. “He got drunk one night in the summer and I came home from work after having pulled a double to make sure I’d be able to pay the electric bill that month, and I find him with a sewing needle and a bottle of goddamn India ink. He’s uh, he’s holding Sammy down because the kid was only twelve at the time, all gangly legs and skinny wrists, and Dad, he’s got Sam’s shirt lifted up, screaming at him to lay still so he can tattoo that fucking symbol on him for protection,” Dean chanced a glance at Cas, saw that his eyes were filled with compassion but thankfully, no pity. “I tore in there and ripped him off of Sammy, told the kid to lock himself in his bedroom. Dad was kind of stumbling, but he was still strong and he shoved me back, back-handed me and told me I was an ungrateful little shit when all he was trying to do was protect us and I...I just flashed. I started going off on how the only ones we needed protection from was him. That he was a sorry excuse for a dad and how Mom would have been ashamed of what he’d turned into and how he had neglected her boys.”

“Dean, I’m so sorry. I knew it was bad, Sam said… but he never mentioned any of this,” Cas’ eyes were pained, liquid sapphires and Dean was taken aback at how the thought of Dean hurt seemed to make him hurt as well.

“Yeah, well. I was sixteen and coming into my height and weight and I didn’t make it easy on him.  From then on, I made sure Sam had activities after school so he wouldn’t be home alone with him, and on the nights I worked I either sent him to Bobby’s or set him up in the corner of the restaurant I worked at with his homework or books. “

Castiel tilted his head as though listening to something. “Blueberry syrup, he keeps making me smell blueberry syrup,” Cas said and Dean huffed out a laugh.

“I worked at an IHOP, so my clothes always smelled like breakfast. I worked there all through high school and after.  The smell used to drive him crazy, but I needed to make sure we had what we needed because he certainly wasn’t providing it.  I’d pretty much been handling the finances since I was fourteen. I’d pay the bills over the phone with the debit card and before all of the cash from mom’s life insurance ran out I made him pay off the mortgage on the house so at least all I had to worry about  was-”

“Everything else,” Cas cut in and Dean nodded.

“Your dad wants me to tell you he’s sorry,” Castiel said and Dean scoffed. “He says he knows it doesn’t mean much now, but that he knows he was wrong now. He said to tell you that you’re right. That you and Sam should have been enough. Do you understand?”

Dean felt his eyes stinging as he thought back to the last time he saw his Dad. He’d been twenty-one and it was the anniversary of Mary’s death and of course, John had been completely wasted. Dean was pissed because all he and Sam had wanted to do was ignore the painful day, and watch some movies and try not to just dwell in the sadness that seemed to coat every corner of their house. John had started harping on them on, telling them they were bad sons for not respecting Mary and grieving. Dean had just snapped.

_“Are you kidding me? All I fucking do is grieve! I eat, I sleep, I work, and I grieve. I take care of Sammy and I grieve. I clean up after your drunk ass and I grieve! I grieve for the life I should have had, for the fucking childhood I will never get back. Why weren't we enough for you, huh? Why couldn't you be alive for us? Why did you make us grieve you too?”_

Dean wiped his eyes with the back of his hand angrily, swiping away tears he thought he’d long since shed.

“You’re Dad says that he didn’t care enough about himself after your Mom died, to properly care for you and your brother. He says he saw how you were with Sam, how strong and determined you were at such a young age and that he took the easy way out, but he is proud of the man you’ve become.”

“Yeah, well he can take his pride and shove it where the sun don’t shine because it doesn’t do anything for me now. Tell him I hope mom kicked his worthless ass when she saw him again,” Dean said, voice hoarse.

Castiel gave a short laugh. “She says _you better believe it, my little angel,_ ” Cas said and Dean’s heart gave a little leap at the familiar phrase.

“She used to call me that all of the time when I was a kid. She’d let me help her make cherry pie, and we’d sing _Hey_ _Jude_ while we danced around the kitchen,” Dean said fondly.

Cas flipped his notebook over, showing Dean where he’d already written the words _Pie_ and _Hey_ _Jude_.

Dean chuckled, “Yeah, yeah. You’re the real deal, I know.”

Cas started to speak, hesitating for a moment as he wrote something down. “Your Dad wants me to tell you some things, some life lessons he wishes he’d told you while he was alive.”

“This ought to be good,” Dean snorted but nodded in acquiescence.

“He says despite popular opinion, it is okay to go to bed angry. It's human nature and unrealistic not to expect that to happen sometimes. But when it does, you still have to make sure you say I love you," Cas paused a minute as though listening, "He says that the night before your mom passed they’d had a fight about Rumsfeld?”

Dean found himself laughing. “Rumsfeld was Bobby’s dog. My dad, he let him in the house when he and Bobby were watching the game and he ran wild all over the house, somehow managed to knock over this family heirloom, some porcelain angel my grandmother Deanna had left my mom, shattered the thing to pieces. There had been hell to pay that night, I remember Mom made Dad sleep on the couch and the next day...well, she died when they were giving each other the silent treatment.”

“He also says, and I quote: _Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole does not apply to your other half._ ”

“Ha! You’re just making that up so I don’t bitch when you play _Beyonce_ in my Baby,” Dean teased and Cas rolled his eyes affectionately.

“He says to teach your kids about classic rock and make a pilgrimage with them to _CBGB_.”

“ _CBGB_ was where-”

“Was where the _Ramones_ and _Blondie_ got their start, yes I know,” Castiel said matter of factly and Dean surveyed him, impressed.

“Mostly he just wants you not to turn into him. He said don’t let grief make you become like him. That all those times when he came home wrecked and you’d pat him on the shoulder and tell him everything was going be okay, that all of the times you took care of him, took care of Sam… you shouldn’t have had to do that,” Castiel softly.

Dean didn’t really have much to say to that. He had no intentions of ever becoming like his father, and though he appreciated the posthumous apology, it really didn’t change anything. He supposed what he could take away from the experience was a little bit of closure.

* * *

 

Later, Dean sat relaxed in a chaise lounge under the stars, with Castiel reclined in his arms in front of a bonfire, sharing S’more sweetened kisses.  Wood crackled, sending little sparks and embers into the sky. A blue and green plaid fleece was tucked around them as they drank shallow glasses of _Untamed_ _Red,_ enjoying the flavor bursts of blueberry and cedar on their tongues.

After the reading, Dean had been quiet. He’d packed a bag while Castiel put the steaks in an insulated lunch bag of Sam’s, leaving the potatoes behind, insisting he had plenty back at the house.  They’d gone back to Cas’ house in his jeep and when they’d arrived, Dean had pulled Cas into a crushing hug before they even left the vehicle. He’d pressed a kissed to the man’s forehead and whispered _thank_ _you_ , finally ready to let some things go. Mainly, a lot of his anger.

“We should camp out here one night,” Dean said, breath fanning Cas’ ears and he grinned when he felt Castiel shiver.

“You want to sleep outside when my comfortable California King is all nice and cozy, inside waiting for us?” Castiel turned his head, wine glass aloft as he searched Dean’s gaze.

“Well, not tonight, but yeah. Get one of those double sleeping bags and the tents with the netted roof so we can see the stars. Maybe next Sunday, there’s a meteor shower you know. I wanted to take some pictures anyway, we could make a night of it,” Dean angled his head down to give Cas a gentle kiss.

“I think I like that plan,” Castiel whispered against his lips.

“Oh yeah?” Dean breathed and Cas nodded, mouths skimming each other with the movement. “Well that’s good because I like making plans with you, Cas,” Dean said, their lips coming together again, languid and deep and slick.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One Chapter to go, guys. Hope you've enjoyed the ride :)


	21. Diamonds in the Sky

“That sweatband makes you look like you belong in some eighties work-out video.”

Castiel smirked at the remark as his sneakers pounded the sand. The sun beat down hard in the clear blue sky and despite the SPF-40 he was wearing, Cas could already feel the burn starting on his bare shoulders.  His plain white tank top was sticking to his skin, baby blue running shorts hugging his thick thighs in a way that he  _ knew _ would have Dean salivating. The man had a slight obsession with that part of his body, not that Cas was complaining in any way.

“You may be impervious to heat, but for those of us in corporeal form, it’s ninety fucking degrees out with no breeze,” Castiel panted out as he jogged down the beach.

“Whatever you say, _Richard_ _Simmons_ ,” came the teasing response.

Castiel slowed his pace a little bit as he felt more rivulets of sweat dripping down his back. He imagined he must have smelled like a sub shop and was happy it was almost the turnaround point. He still needed to take a shower, drop off a check to the children’s library and then meet Lily for brunch.

“You’ve been MIA a lot the past few weeks,” Castiel remarked as he narrowly avoided tripping over a large clump of dried seaweed.

“I could say the same about you, darling,” Balthazar replied. “No plans with the sinfully gorgeous photographer today?”

As usual, thoughts of Dean had a sappy smile brightening his face. “Not until tonight. Today he and Sam are helping Ellie at the Gallery.  She’s having a special showing of the senior art students final exam work.”

“A new generation of Van Goghs’ and Ansel Adams’, hmm?” Balthazar said and Cas huffed a little laugh.

“The talent is amazing, I saw some of the work last night. There was one piece made out of hammered metal with these intricate vines and flowers etched into it… remarkable,” Castiel bent at the waist as he made it to the base of his back stairs.

“Are you going to the showing?”

“No,” Cas said as he began his cool down stretches. “It’s going to be showing for two weeks, so we’ll go at some point, but tonight we’re camping out for the meteor shower.”

Barking up ahead had Cas looking up and shading his eyes. He gave a friendly wave as Hannah MacLeod chucked a stick into the water for her and Crowley’s large hound Juliet to go fetch.

“Cassie, in case you are unaware, sex on the beach sounds way more romantic than it really is,” Balthazar warned and Castiel snorted.

“Not that I want you thinking about my sex life, but Dean is bringing a tent and sleeping bags. Any sex being had will not take place on the sand,” he said with a shake of his head. What odd conversations one had with their deceased ghost brother.

“That’s good to know, my dear. Will you also be roasting hot dogs over an open fire?” Balthazar’s voice was alight with laughter and Castiel found himself grinning.

“No. No tin can of beans either, before you ask.  Dean said he’d pack a picnic.”

“I’m sure it will be  _très_ _romantique_ ,” Balthazar said assuredly as Castiel sat down on the bottom step.

“I am sorry that I’ve been so absent lately,” Castiel said regretfully. “I don’t like the idea of you being alone.”

“Don’t be ludicrous, Castiel. I’m happy that you're happy. It’s all I’ve wanted for you,” the words were distant now, signaling that Balthazar was soon about to flitter off to wherever it was he went when he wasn’t with Cas.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Right as rain, Castiel. Now run along and get cleaned up.”

“You’re a good brother, Balthazar,” Castiel murmured.

“I’m the  _ best _ brother,” came the faint cocky reply making Cas smile even as his eyes began to sting.

* * *

 

Castiel showered and changed into a pair of khaki shorts and Dean’s AC/DC tee-shirt shirt that he had liberated at some point in time. He didn’t bother trying to tame his hair and just finger combed it before leaving the bathroom.

Cas made sure to fill Aslan’s food dishes and left an extra large bowl of water with ice in it for Salty outside. He drove into town to drop off his donation to the  _ Lighthouse Point Children’s Library  _ before heading to the Main Street Plaza to meet Lily. Main Street Plaza was a chain of novelty and mainstream stores mixed with family-style restaurants, and bars ranging from upscale to dive. During the summer months, it was always packed with tourists, and today was no exception.

Castiel wound up parking in the back, spotting Lily’s little gold  _ Kia _ a few rows ahead of him.  Sunglasses fixed on his face, Cas headed to the  _ Rise and Shine Bakery & Cafe _ where his friend, he knew, would have arrived early to secure their favorite table in the back.  The door gave a tinkling sound when Castiel entered and he gave a wave to Sue behind the counter before maneuvering his way to the booth on the far left side of the cafe. It was the perfect spot for people watching and he and Lily liked to make a game out of guessing where the patrons came from and where they were going.

Lily looked up as Cas approached the table and smiled at him sunnily. Her copper-colored hair was twisted in a messy bun, leaving her shoulders bare in the lemon yellow sundress she wore. Castiel could say without a doubt that this was the brightest he could ever remember seeing her and he found himself smiling widely at how far she had come in her healing.

Castiel leaned down and kissed her cheek enjoying the fruity smell of her perfume, giving her a playful sniff, making her scrunch her head: into her shoulder and giggle.

“It’s my new body spray, pomegranate splash,” she said when he sat himself down.

“Suits you. So what’s new?”

“Well, my therapist said she thinks it’s time to start dating again,” Lily said, pausing as their waitress came to fill their coffee cups and check to see if they were ready to order.

“What do you think about that?” Castiel asked after they’d placed their orders; Steak and eggs for him and a Belgium waffle for her.

“I think I’m ready. I mean, I’ve been getting out more,“ Cas knew she was referring to the group activities she’d been joining in with Cas and Dean and their mutual friends. “My baby is gone,” she said quietly. “She’s gone and she’s at peace, you showed me that. I need to start living the rest of my life,” she said with a soft shrug.

“I’m proud of you, Lily,” Castiel said sincerely.

After their food arrived, Cas surveyed the cafe as they ate, noting the eclectic mix of Hawaiian shirts, business suits, and off-the-rack summer attire.

“Hey, the guy in the pinstriped suit with the clip-on tie, super slicked hair, and extra shiny shoes,” Lily said, nodding her head at the nervous looking blonde sitting alone at large booth.

“Hmm,” Castiel hummed, “He’s young, maybe seventeen, eighteen. I’m going to guess meeting his sweetheart’s family for the first time over brunch?”

Lily laughed as a few seconds later a pretty young brunette came in flanked by a man and woman who shared her caramel coloring and dark hair. The boy greeted the girl with a chaste kiss on the cheek and shook both of the adults' hands. “Ha-ha, nice one!”

When their waitress came by again, Cas had her refill his coffee and found his thoughts drifting back to Balthazar. He’d seemed… different.  Something must have shown on his face because he was startled to feel the soft touch of Lily’s hand on his.

“Hey, are you alright? You look like your stewing on something pretty hard,” brown eyes shining with concern peered at him.

Cas dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m fine, it’s just I think there may be something going on with Balthazar,” he said to the only other person aside from Gabriel and Dean who knew he continued to see his long-dead brother on a regular basis. “He’s hardly around anymore and when he does visit, our conversations are becoming shorter and shorter. I’m just worried he’s feeling… left out?”

“Maybe he’s just trying to give you space. You know, alone time?” she said, wiggling her brows and making him huff out a laugh.

“Maybe. I just don’t want him to feel like I'm choosing Dean over him.”

“A wise man once told me,  _ the living have to live. _ ”

“Quoting me back to me, Lily? Touche,” Cas acknowledged with a nod, then cocked his head when he saw his friend become distracted by whoever she saw outside of the window.

“Okay, guy coming in. Jeans, black tee-shirt with a black and blue flannel overshirt tied around the waist,” her tone held humor, “wickedly bowed legs with entrancing green eyes flecked with gold.”

Castiel whipped his gaze towards the door where, as he expected, his lover was walking through, followed by Sam. Castiel did not miss the way Lily’s eyes dragged over the younger Winchester’s tall form.

“You could date him, you know,” Cas teased, “but I’m afraid his hair will always be better than yours,” he said, ducking when she threw a napkin at him.

The pair hadn’t noticed them yet and Cas was happy to go unobserved as he watched the brother’s dynamic, heart fluttering a bit at the silken honey of Dean’s voice as he began to order.

“Yeah, I’ll get a large hot coffee and a chocolate chip muffin to go.”

“No, he’ll get the reduced fat blueberry muffin,” Sam jumped in and Cas watched as Dean rolled his eyes when he turned to face his brother.

“Who the hell are you, my mother?” Dean barked and Cas had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing.

“Dean, you know what the Doctor said about your cholesterol.”

“Dude, I cut out the fried stuff last month, one Goddamn muffin isn‘t going to kill me.”

“Fine,” Sam said as he pulled out his phone and began texting.

“Wait, wait, wait. Who are messaging?”

Sam looked up and said, innocently, “Cas.” Castiel snorted into his coffee, shushing Lily when she started to talk.

“Really?” Dean questioned, sounding thoroughly unimpressed. “You’re threatening me with my absurdly hot boyfriend?” Cas may have preened a bit at the compliment.

“Who said anything about threatening? Just wanted to ask something about the next case,” Sam said and waited a beat as Dean cursed.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered under his breath before pulling out his dazzling smile for the teen behind the counter who had been watching the exchange with a nervous look that said she didn’t know which one of them to listen to. “Black coffee,” he said, “with a  _ reduced-fat _ -” he looked at Sam pointedly, “blueberry muffin. There, happy Samantha?” 

“Your absurdly hot boyfriend is,” Cas called from his seat in the back before Sam could answer, leaning around the booth and winking at him.

Castiel’s heart stuttered at the smile that broke out on Dean’s face, soft crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. Dean left Sam at the counter to make his order and strode over to Cas and Lily’s table. 

Dean kissed Lily hello on the cheek before placing a soft kiss on Cas’ lips, humming into and lingering. 

“My cholesterol is way down from what it was last month,” Dean defended, as both Cas and Sam had been present when the answering machine had parroted back that Dean needed to have bloodwork done at his last physical, in which the results had spurned lectures from both Sam and Cas on Dean’s dietary choices when on the road for cases.

“Here,” came Sam’s voice as he shoved a small paper bag into Dean’s hand before passing him his coffee. “You owe me $6.15.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Highway robbery for coffee and a muffin,” he muttered as Sam said hello to Lily, quite shyly if Castiel wasn’t mistaken.  Sam tripped over his words as he complimented her sundress and Dean’s laughing eyes met his over the brim of his to-go cup. Cas wondered how long Sam had been harboring his little crush and made a mental note to talk about it with Dean that night.

“Cas, I’m glad we ran into you. Have you talked to Gabriel?”

“Not since Friday, why?”

Sam’s face held barely contained excitement and Castiel glanced at Dean, seeing that he looked just as boggled by his brother’s exuberance as Castiel was.

“We got invited to investigate at  _ Pennhurst _ next month.” Sam was practically vibrating with excitement and Castiel couldn’t blame him. The  _ Pennhurst State School and Hospital  _ in Spring City, Pennsylvania was considered to be in the top three of most haunted asylums in America. It had opened in 1908 and had a laundry list of atrocities ranging from abuse to rape to murder. Some of the evidence found there by other reputable paranormal groups were an investigators dream.

“Nope. No fucking way,” Castiel was startled to hear Dean say sharply.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” Sam teased.

“Not for me,” Dean replied agitatedly. “I’m talking about Cas. He ain’t going.”

“Excuse me?” Castiel managed to bite out after he regained his voice. Dean did not shy away and looked Cas directly in the eyes.

“You. Are. Not. Going.” he said, stressing the words as though Castiel needed to read his lips and he felt a flash of anger overtake the shock that Dean’s attitude had thrown him in.

“Excuse me, but at what point did you appoint yourself my lord and master?”

“I never said I was your Lord and Master,” Dean said, rolling those green eyes that usually lit on him so affectionately.

“Really? Because you saying where I can and cannot go seems to suggest otherwise.” Out of the corner of his eye, Cas saw Sam and Lily try to inconspicuously edge away from the pair and give them a modicum of privacy, which in a nearly full cafe was next to impossible. But Dean didn’t seem to care that there were eyes on them as he continued.

“After what happened to you at _Howland_ _House_ , do you really expect me to let you go where there are the spirits of murderers?”

“ _Let_ me go?” Cas’ tone was incredulous, “are you hearing yourself right now? Dean, this is my job. To help people!”

“Yes, to help  _ people _ . Not criminally insane ghosts!”

“Not all of them were criminals, Dean!” Cas shot back and his fists clenched when Dean only let out an astonished laugh.

“No, but a handful is enough. This isn’t like the dinky little cases we do on the regular. You won’t even have to invite them in, they will jump your meat suit before you even get a chance to say  _ hello _ ,” Dean said harshly and Cas laughed humorlessly.

“Oh, and Mr. _I don’t want to believe_ is suddenly an expert on how to channel?” Castiel raised his voice.

“Don’t be a dick, you know I believe in what you do. Why the fuck do think I’m against this? After what happened with Hannah? And she was just a broken-hearted girl. We’re talking about chronically abused, mentally deficient people here, Cas. They aren’t going to listen to reason and heart to hearts!”

“So I’m not supposed to try? I’m supposed to just turn my back on my gift because it could get a little dangerous?”

“Yes! That’s  _ exactly _ what you're supposed to do. Know when to walk away and not do anything stupid!”

For a moment Castiel just stared at him, mouth agape as he fought the urge kick his boyfriend's gorgeous ass. 

“Sam? You can tell Gabriel I’m in,”  Castiel said and opened up his wallet, throwing some cash on the table and then walking past Dean towards the door without a glance.

“Where are you going? We’re talking here,” Dean said, voice strained and Cas stopped to turn and glare at him with narrowed eyes.

“Don’t worry. If I plan on doing anything else stupid, I’ll let you know,” Cas said caustically, walking out the door without a backward glance.

* * *

 

Castiel was literally shaking with fury as he drove back home. He felt awful, he hadn’t even said goodbye to Lily. It occurred to him, as his eyes burned with angry tears, that he and Dean had just had their first argument. Not a quiet, private argument housed by the walls of their homes, but out in the open, vigorously loud and emotional.

Who did Dean think he was, that he could make decisions about Cas’ own life for him? Even as he asked himself a small voice whispered:  _ He’s the one who had to carry your drained body out of a house after a possession.  _ Castiel pushed that voice aside because no matter what the reason, Dean had no right to talk to him as though he were some feeble-minded moron who didn’t know how to take care of himself.

“That’s his problem,” Cas mumbled to himself, climbing up his steps and jamming the key in the lock. His hands were trembling so much it took him three times to get the door open, pushing it open forcefully. “Thinks he needs to take care of me like he takes care of every other damn person in his life.”

Castiel marched through his house and headed for his kitchen where he jerked open the cabinet, pulling down the canister he kept his weed and pipe in.

“Well, someone came back in a lovely mood,” Balthazar’s amused voice had him nearly dropping the bowl he was hastily packing.

“Jesus Christ, Balthazar, a little warning please!” Cas said before storming out the back door to lean against the railing of his back deck, quickly lighting the bowl and taking a deep pull.

“Spill, brother. What did the _Calvin_ _Klein_ model do that has you so brassed off?”

When Castiel gave Balthazar the run down of what had happened, the last thing he was expecting was for him to laugh.

“I’m sorry, do you want to explain why this is funny to you?” Castiel’s asked, astonished by the reaction.

“So that’s it, then? It’s over?”

Castiel choked on an inhale of smoke. “No,” he sputtered, eyes watering. “Of course not.”

“Well, does Dean know that?” Balthazar asked and Castiel paused.

“Of course he does,” he said. _Doesn’t_ _he?_ “It’s just a fight. Couples fight sometimes. I’m allowed to be angry, you know,” Castiel said, feeling a little defensive over the fact that Balthazar didn’t seem to see why he was so upset. There was a pregnant pause, the only sound the random call of gulls and the flick of the lighter and rolling waves.

“Cassie, I understand why you're mad,” Balthazar said, breaking the quiet,  “Acting like your keeper and demanding you stay home-”

“Implying that I’m stupid,” Cas cut in.

“Implying that you’re stupid, though I doubt that is what he meant, was not the brightest of moves. I’m guessing your Dean is more of an actions speak louder than words kind of man when it comes to emotions.”

Castiel couldn’t really argue with that. “Yes. Talking about feelings… it’s not really his strong suit. He’s getting better,” Castiel admitted with a reluctant half-smile. Castiel left the railing and went to sit on the top step heading down to the beach and Balthazar came to settle beside him.

“It sounds to me like the man is terrified, and instead of expressing it calmly, he chose the caveman route,” Balthazar said and Castiel sighed. That’s exactly what Dean did. 

Cas took one last hit then tapped out his bowl, placing it on the step next to him. Normally he felt relaxed after indulging, and although he burned most of his mad off, he couldn’t chase away the feeling of nausea that the fight had churned up.  

“I understand why he doesn’t want me to do it. But he needs to understand that I’m not a child.”

“You silly man, he doesn’t think you’re a child,” Balthazar laughed again and Castiel glared at him, annoyed at his brother’s humor with the situation. “Cas, he’s in love with you. When you love someone, your first thought is always of them, their happiness, their safety. Castiel, you were  _ possessed _ in front of him.  To the point where you nearly collapsed, so drained you couldn’t even walk down a flight of stairs.”

Cas couldn’t help but think of that night, how Dean had done everything he could to bring him back, how he took care of him, how he’d pushed all fear aside and confessed his feelings when Cas had been too afraid. 

“I know. He… he was frantic,” Cas looked up, shading his eyes from the afternoon sun.  He wondered what Dean was doing now. No doubt helping Ellie like he’d planned. One thing he knew for sure, Dean kept his promises and honored his commitments.  

“Castiel, you should know… I’m leaving.”

Castiel arched a brow. “Right now? Got somewhere more important to be than coaching me through my first fight with Dean?” he teased, expecting some flippant answer, surprised when Balthazar’s tone remained serious.

“Castiel, do you know why I’m here?”

“Wait. When you say leaving, you mean… crossing over? And you're telling me this now?” Castiel felt his chest tighten, heartbroken at the thought of losing his brother all over again.

“It had to be now, love, that’s the thing. Don’t you know why I stayed?”

“You… you said you didn’t want to leave. That you were content to watch the world as though it were your favorite soap opera,” Castiel grinned, “Can’t have been all that interesting with only me on the channel.”

“There were definitely episodes I wouldn’t have minded missing.  The _Ishim_ _Chronicles_ were quite abominable.”

“Seriously, though, Balthazar? Why now? What’s changed?”

“You have, my dear,” his brother said, delighted. “Oh, Cas. You used to be so closed off.  You opened up a little with Lily, but even she only sees what you want her too,” Aslan wandered out from under one of the deck chairs to come curl up between them and Balthazar stroked his hair with phantom fingers, but not a strand of it ruffled. “You smile, for no reason at all. You have friends, you’ve seen movies from this decade, finally!”

Castiel huffed out a laugh even as he teared up. 

“Castiel, you have this confidence now, this sense of purpose. You knew that boy wanted you and you did something about it. You were getting burnt out with your work, so you changed that too. I’m so proud of you, Cassie.”

“I appreciate that Balthazar, so much. It means a lot, and it’s true. I have changed, and I do think for the better, but I’m not sure what this has to do with you being ready to go?”

“My job as your big brother has always been to look after you and make sure that you’re okay. To make sure that you were taking care of yourself,” Balthazar’s words only brought Dean more to the forefront of Cas’ mind. “Who else was going to love you and protect you more than me? Of course, I had to stay here.”

“Balthazar, you shouldn’t have. If you wanted to go, you should have, I would have understood,” Cas’ voice was pained and Balthazar shook his head in protest.

“You misunderstand me, brother, I  _ wanted _ to stay. I was happy to be by your side, so long as you needed me. And now, here you are,” Balthazar broke out into an elated smile, “in a fight with your scrumptious boyfriend… and it’s because he is so in love with you, so worried for your safety, that he made a spectacle of himself in front of a cafe full of people in an attempt to keep you from putting yourself in harm’s way.

“I’m leaving, Cassie, because you don’t need a protector anymore. You can take care of yourself.  You’ve found the love of your life, and oh, so important: You’ve found yourself. There aren’t words for how overjoyed that makes me.”

Castiel felt tears drip down his cheeks. “I want you to go because it is what is best for you. I, more than anyone, know that. You’re supposed to move on. But the selfish part of me doesn’t want to say goodbye to you.”

“Then don’t say goodbye. Unless you have the secret to immortality, our parting is merely temporary,” Balthazar said, his voice soothing. “Now, go take a nap, you look like you need it, then shower and call Dean. Yell at him some more if you need to, Cassie, but work it out,” 

Cas nodded and wiped his eyes. “I will. Thank you, Balthazar,” he said gratefully and he knew Balthazar would know that Cas didn’t just mean for the conversation. “I love you.”

A gust of wind kicked up as “I love you, too, Cassie,” echoed in his mind.

* * *

 

 

Castiel did wind up falling asleep, out like a light for about four hours before waking a little after 6 pm with gritty eyes and a hollow stomach. He’d checked his phone before he’d laid down, hoping to see some message from Dean, but the screen remained blank. He supposed that his boyfriend was probably cooling off as well, immersing himself in his work at the gallery. Cas felt his stomach sink a little as he thought about the romantic evening they’d had planned.

Needless to say, when he went into the kitchen to get a glass of water and saw Dean sitting on one of his deck chairs, boot-clad feet propped on the railing as he scratched behind Salty’s ears gently, Cas was stunned. Salty, who had actually willingly crept up alongside Dean’s seat and was leaning into the man’s touch. Well, that was certainly a feeling he could understand.  Cas felt his heart start to gallop as warmth began to radiate from his chest and spread throughout the rest of his body, making him lightheaded and shaky. He recognized the feeling as pure relief. Dean’s hair was even messier than Cas’, a testament to how many times he must have raked his hands through it; the back of his neck was red where he’d no doubt repeatedly scratched at it, a habit Dean had when he was nervous or upset. The free hand not petting the temperamental stray was anxiously tapping a rapid beat on his knee. Cas’ heart clutched at the evidence before him, of the kind of power he actually had over this man.  Dean was an overwrought mess and it was all because of him. It humbled him, having that much control over someone else’s emotions and wondered if Dean even knew that he held the same influence over him.

Cas felt whatever residual anger left over their fight seep out of his body, just leaving the desire to pull Dean into an embrace and make everything better between them. Castiel found himself moving without thought to the back door. He opened it and leaned against the jam, eyes drinking in the sight of Dean sitting up straight, abruptly, the movement making Salty shoot down the stairs. Dean stood up, hands at his side, fingers clenching and unclenching as he seemed to be trying to read Castiel’s face.

“I was sleeping,” Castiel said, voice sleep roughened.

“S’okay,” Dean said cautiously.

“What are you doing here?” Castiel asked, noting how Dean flinched a bit, then straightened taller. He watched as Dean tapped his fist against his legs as though gearing himself up before he walked towards Cas with purpose, eyes darting over his face.

Dean stood before him, close enough for Castiel to trace the constellations of golden freckles scattered across his perfect face.

“So, I recently was given this insightful life lesson from my old man, and he said that it’s okay to go to bed angry, but you still have to say I love you. So, this is me here, saying that I know that you’re mad at me, and you have every right to be for the way I spoke to you, but Castiel...I just... _ fuck _ ,  I love y-” 

Cas didn’t let him finish. Instead, he grabbed Dean’s cheeks and pulled him into a hard kiss. “I love you too,“ he breathed, the words eagerly falling off of his tongue as if they were just waiting to find their way to Dean.

Dean brought his hands up to cover Cas’ squeezing, before tugging him into a crushing embrace. Cas buried his face in the crook of Dean’s neck, inhaling his scent and letting it ground him. Dean mirrored the action, murmuring something about _citrus_ _storms_.

“Cas, I’m sorry,” Dean whispered against his neck. “It’s just, I saw what losing my mom did to my dad and the thought of something happening to you… I don’t want to become my father, but if I lost you…” the words trailed off and Castiel held him harder, running his hand up and down his back in soothing trails. “I don’t think I could live without you,” it was a broken confession that had Castiel’s breath hitching.

“I was pissed at the way you just decided what I was and wasn’t going to do,” Castiel said as he pulled back to meet Dean’s gaze. Dean lowered his eyes in shame and Cas lifted his chin with his finger, urging him to look at him. “Your reaction spurred mine and I flashed. We both should have calmed down and spoken like adults. And I… I know how much you take care of the people you love, I know how safeguarding those you care about is a big part of who you are, down to the core,” Cas smiled at him, gently, “It’s one of the things I love so much about you. But at the time I was too angry to look underneath your words to remember that.”

“I’ll support you if you really want to go. If you promise to be careful and take every precaution, I will be behind you,” Dean said sincerely and Cas smiled at him, gratefully.

“I promise, Dean.”

Dean leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Cas’. “So you forgive me, then?”

Castiel answered by angling his head up to capture his mouth in a kiss, deep, slick and sweet.

* * *

 

“This was perfect, Dean,” Castiel said later when the sky had darkened. “You did all this while I was asleep?”

Castiel’s cast iron fire pit was set up with wood for burning and two large comforters were laid upon the sand in the back of Castiel’s house. On one of them was a large wicker picnic basket and an ice bucket housing a crisp _Pinot_ _Grigio_. The other bedspread had a large pop-up tent on it with a see-through mesh dome. The heavens were littered with stars, the cliche of _diamonds in the sky_ fully at play.  They’d enjoyed a light fare of lobster salad on bruschetta, with a cheese and fruit platter. The bottom of the basket still housed a homemade cherry pie that Dean had picked up back at the scene of that morning’s crime.

Dean stood, fiddling with his camera and snapped a shot of Castiel lounging in the chaise they’d carried down from the deck.

“Well, I figured you would either hear my car, know I was coming and we’d have it out… or you’d ignore me til you were ready to talk. I decided to be optimistic,” he said, snapping another picture as Castiel looked up at him fondly.

“I’m glad you did. I was pretty upset when I got home. I packed a bowl and talked things out with Balthazar and it helped me see things from your perspective.”

“Oh yeah? Can you tell him thanks for me?” Dean said with an easy smile that quickly turned to a frown at what must have been a dejected look on Castiel’s face. “Hey, sunshine, what’s the matter?”

Castiel took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly, backing up in the chair as Dean came over to straddle the end of it, facing him. Dean took Cas’ hands in his, intertwining their fingers together.

“C’mon, Cas, talk to me.”

“Balthazar’s gone,” Cas said, a tear slipping out that Dean reached up to catch. “It’s stupid that I’m crying because it’s what is best for him. Moving on, seeing the light.”

“It’s not stupid at all, Cas. He was your brother. He looked out for you, he was your best friend,” Dean said and Cas nodded. “It would be crazy if you  _ weren’t _ upset.”

Castiel sniffed and gave a weak smile. “He liked you, you know?”

Dean laughed. “That’s quite a compliment since we never actually met.”

“He didn’t have to meet you to see how happy you’ve made me,” Castiel said sincerely and Dean grinned widely, shifting forward until he was straddling Cas’ thighs, and wound his arms around his neck.

“For what it’s worth, the feeling is mutual,” Dean said, catching Castiel’s mouth in a tender kiss. Cas’ smiled into it, then teasingly nipped at Dean’s full bottom lip. What started as soft and playful soon became heated as the press of Dean’s body against his own set little fires dancing across his skin.

Dean laughed as they hastily helped each other remove their tee-shirts, “I’m so glad you live on a private beach,” he tipped his head back, moaning lowly as Cas licked a stripe up his neck, giving a sucking kiss to his Adam’s apple.  Dean rocked in Castiel’s lap, slow, barely-there undulations of his hips that had Cas catching his breath on a high-pitched sigh. Calloused thumbs plucked at Castiel’s nipples when he bit Dean’s earlobe. Cas arched into him, and the material between his shorts and Dean’s jeans was a frustrating barrier. Cas dragged his fingers down Dean’s sides, stopping at his hips, squeezing.

“Please tell me there is lube in that picnic basket,” Castiel pleaded and Dean tossed his head back, laughing, and gestured to the pocket of his jeans. Castiel patted his legs, urging him to get up.

“Take these off, and then come back here,” Cas said, voice raspy with need and he saw Dean’s eyes dilate at his tone. When Cas slid his khakis and brief down his legs and kicked them off Dean’s gaze never left Cas’. Castiel’s dick bobbed free, leaning towards his stomach, already half hard.

Dean tugged the small tube of lubricant out of his pocket, dropping it into the cup holder of the chaise. He pushed his jeans and underwear down muscled, bowed legs just built for straddling and Castiel hummed in approval as Dean’s own cock hung heavy and flushed before him. Castiel bit his lip, holding out a hand and Dean took it, allowing himself to be tugged down. Twin moans escaped as they brushed against each other, the only other sound aside from them was the crashing waves. Dean’s hand came to fist in Cas’ hair, slotting their mouths together, tongues rolling against each other in unison with their hips. Dean sucked on Cas’ bottom lip as his fingers trailed down his chest, moving lower until they brushed his rapidly plumping cock.

Dean broke off the kiss so he could look down and watch as his fist gently encircled Cas’ dick, stroking lightly.  "You're so smooth," Dean said softly, his gaze returning to lock with Cas'. "Like silk. But warm.”

Cas’ own hands scratched down Dean’s back before resting on the swell of his ass and massaging his cheeks.  As Castiel dipped his fingers into Dean’s crease and brushed his furled hole, he moaned low and bent down to suck a bruise on the side of Cas’ neck. The feeling of Dean’s warm tongue and hot breath on his skin had Cas’ dick twitching in Dean’s hand and precome beading at the tip.

Castiel’s head fell back as Dean continued to suckle at his flesh. His eyes open wide and he was a mess of sensation as he took in the endless stars as sparks of pleasure burst like supernovas all through his body.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Cas whispered softly as Dean’s hand gripped his cock a little tighter, twisting at the head on each upstroke. ”Dean…,” it was a drawn-out groan of his lover's name, and Dean’s fever-bright eyes burned into his as he gyrated against Castiel, his dick slapped up against his stomach, flushed and glistening.

Castiel’s hands were shaking as he fumbled for the lube, opening it up and smearing the viscous liquid on his fingers. He leaned forward and licked into Dean’s mouth, entwining their tongues for a red-hot second before pulling just far enough to speak, lips still skimming each other as he commanded roughly, “Spread yourself for me.”

Dean whimpered at the words, hurrying to comply, rising up slightly on his knees, spreading his cheeks widely. Cas brought the slick fingers of his right hand to circle Dean’s rim, dipping in and out with his pointer. His other hand came to tug lightly at Dean’s cock and the man shuddered.  Cas continued to play with Dean’s pucker, tapping against the wrinkled ring of muscle and sliding his digit in and out slowly, stretching gently. Dean’s own hand had stopped their ministrations on Cas’ cock, as he was caught between pushing back on Cas’ fingers and thrusting up into his hands. Dean reached back, finding Cas’ thighs and gripped them, using the strong muscles as leverage to move back and forth.

Soft sighs and grunts were escaping on Dean’s every exhale as Castiel continued to work him open. When Cas was two fingers deep into Dean’s hot channel he began to scissor his fingers. Dean ground down on his hand, a low hum of pleasure purring out of him. When Cas’ fingers brushed his prostate, Dean cursed, viciously.

“More, Cas,” Dean breathed out, “I can take more,” and let out a sharp cry of pleasure-pain when Cas inserted a third.  The squelching sound of his fingers sliding in and out was obscenely erotic, and Castiel’s cock pulsed out precome at the sight of Dean losing himself in the feeling of being taken apart.

“Dean,” Cas said, leaning forward to lick at his nipple, teasingly tugging at the stiff peak with his teeth,” are you ready to ride me?”

Dean’s answer was to thumb himself open wider as Cas nudged the tip of his cock in Dean’s flushed hole, catching the rim before popping through the tight ring of muscle. Dean lowered himself down on Cas’ cock agonizingly slow and a deep, guttural groan punched out of Cas when Dean bottomed out. Their foreheads pressed together as Dean breathed through the stretch. Trembling lips met, clinging softly as they brushed their mouths together. Their tongues tangled, sliding against each other, the soft sucking sounds going right to his cock buried hot and hard inside of Dean. Castiel allowed him to set the pace, not thrusting up, just letting Dean rock back and forth as his hands pulled at Cas’ hair. The sharp little tugs on his scalp had tingles shooting up his spine. Castiel kneaded Dean’s ass as he began to swivel his hips.

Cas tipped his head to the side to allow Dean’s mouth access to his pulse point, sighing in pleasure at the warm, wet suction. Cas saw a flash of light streak across the sky and he gasped, arching up into Dean’s slick heat, unable to hold back anymore. Dean picked up the pace, lifting a little and falling down, meeting Cas thrust for thrust. Dean anchored his hands on the back of the chair and he ground down, whole body quivering as Cas nailed his hot spot.

“ _ Fuck _ ,  _ yes _ ,” Dean hissed, chasing the feeling as Cas began to thrust harder and harder. Whimpers, sighs and guttural cries filled the air, a cacophony of unadulterated bliss punctuated by whitecaps rolling and crashing against the shore.

Cas reached a hand between them and gripped Dean’s dripping cock in his lube-slicked hand, jerking roughly as Dean rode him hard.  Cas could feel Dean throbbing in his hand seconds before he erupted. He locked up, mouth falling open on a harsh gasp as come pulsed out in hot splashes on Cas’ chest. Dean’s walls tightened around Castiel’s dick and he ground up, hard into his lover's ass, chasing his own release. A savage cry was ripped from Cas’ throat as he crested, head thrown back and eyes blinded by flashes of light streaking across the sky.

They were a hot, sticky mess embracing bonelessly, Dean’s head resting against Cas’ shoulder as they both panted, breathless. Cas slipped from Dean’s body and he whimpered as Castiel’s softening cock dragged against his puffy rim.

“Do we trudge upstairs to shower or go for a swim?” Dean asked, voice liquid and relaxed and Cas laughed, using what strength he had to shove at Dean until he rose on shaky legs.  He moved until they were toe to toe, cupping his cheeks and leaning in for a sweet kiss.

“Dean?” Cas murmured against his lips.

“Mm-hm?” He hummed, and Castiel’s lips tugged up in a half smile.

“Race you!”

“What? Wait!” Castiel laughed uproariously as he ran, Dean calling after him, and splashed into the water, cooling his overheated skin in the shock of icy water. He heard Dean getting closer, yelping as he crashed into the water, dunking quickly.

“It’s too fucking cold, sunshine, quick rinse and let's go.”

They made quick work of it, shivering as they came out trudging back up the beach to grab the large fluffy towels Dean had thought to leave on the steps. Drying each other off they shared kisses and changed into matching sleep pants that Dean had packed. The meteor shower was a gorgeous affair, and Castiel found himself mesmerized as he laid back on the lounge chair watching the sky, while Dean laid on the comforter outside on his back, snapping away until he was satisfied that he had gotten some worthy shots. Dean packed the camera away and then grabbed two solo cups and poured them both chilled wine. He grabbed two plastic forks and the cherry pie and sat across from Castiel on the end of the chair sharing bites of rich fruit and pastry, the bonfire crackling and popping in the portable fire pit.

When the fire died out and the light show in the sky ended, they crawled into the mesh domed tent and into the double sleeping bag. Cas’ found his mind was drawn to Balthazar again, hoping he was happy and where he was supposed to be. And as he and Dean discussed their future and made plans under the stars, Castiel felt blessed because as for himself, he knew that he certainly was right where he supposed to be.  Entwined in Dean’s arms, safe and loved.

 

The End

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who supported me during this story and to all the readers who took the time give it a whirl. All the love<3


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